


Phil Coulson, Werewolf of SHIELD

by tamnation



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Angst and Humor, Appearances by other SHIELD agents, Fae & Fairies, I think I'm funny, M/M, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-11
Updated: 2016-11-11
Packaged: 2018-08-30 11:03:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 45,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8530528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamnation/pseuds/tamnation
Summary: Phil thought that, as a SHIELD agent, he’d seen all of the weird and bizarre that the world had to offer. He gets a rude awakening when he’s forcibly introduced to the supernatural. Clint’s there to help him adjust to life as a werewolf, but the growing attraction between them might just be the biggest threat to Phil’s control.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this was meant to be my nice, manageable 10k fic for the Marvel Big Bang. Instead, it is a 45K monstrosity that ran away from me :/ But I am so proud of it and I'm so happy that it's finished. 
> 
> My artist is Ficlishiss who is working on some fabulous art for this fic. Check it out [here](http://ficlicious.deviantart.com/art/Phil-Coulson-Werewolf-of-SHIELD-645904840). 
> 
> Big thanks go to my beta, DizzyRedhead, for correcting my mistakes and doing her best to Americanise my writing. All remaining mistakes are my own, and the remaining Australian spelling is because there are certain words I just cannot stand to be spelled wrong. 
> 
> Special thanks to Swlfangirl for being the most supportive and encouraging person and for demanding that I write more of 'her' fic even when I was close to giving up. This would never have been finished if it wasn't for your constant belief in me. 
> 
> Thanks as always to the mods of the Marvel Big Bang community. You have done a fabulous job as always! 
> 
> Disclaimer: Clint and Phil and all other recognisable characters belong to Marvel.

**~~~ Chapter 1 ~~~**

One of the first things that all newbie agents learned when they joined SHIELD was that Phil Coulson was a badass. Sometime between the warning spiel about not eating the cafeteria’s mac and cheese and handing out uniforms and basic equipment, the new recruits’ SO always filled them in on the exploits of Strike Team Delta, that one Hydra base in Sweden where Phil had rescued his entire team of specialists armed only with his boot laces and a handful of paperclips, and the fact that the last agent who had tried to skip out on paperwork under Coulson had found himself on desk duty for a month. Some of the stories were exaggerations, of course, but there was enough truth mixed in that it was clear to everyone just why Coulson was Fury’s right-hand man.

 

No matter where he was or what he was doing, it was nearly impossible to get the jump on the senior agent. Barton had made a game of trying to catch him off guard years ago, and still hadn’t managed it. Phil knew that the archer had started the rumour about him being an android that never slept, after the first few times he’d literally dropped into Phil’s office at 3am from the ceiling vents, only to be met with a polite smile and a request for his overdue paperwork.

 

That was what made the current situation rather embarrassing. No one was ever going to believe that three mediocre street thugs could take out such a deadly SHIELD Agent in a casual mugging gone wrong. If he made it through this, Phil was never leaving his apartment unarmed again. But he’d only ducked out for ten minutes to pick up his Chinese order from the restaurant at the end of his block.  

 

Of course, Phil should have known that when a SHIELD agent was involved, nothing ever went smoothly. Distressed crying and whimpering noises caught his attention, coming from a narrow side alley that looked like something straight out of one of those cliché cop shows. He probably should have at least stopped to grab a weapon of sorts, but he knew that every second he delayed could alter the outcome.

 

Instead, he moved with purpose into the alley. A tiny slip of a girl who looked like a good gust of wind would send her flying, was boxed up against the wall by a man at least twice her age and solidly built. He was holding her hands tightly above her head and he tilted his head so that he could whisper something against her neck.

 

“Please. I just need more time. Please don’t,” the girl whimpered, trying to squirm as far away from the man as she could. Even from the end of the alley, Phil could see the tear tracks running down her cheeks.

 

“I’ll take my payment however I want. You knew that when you came to me.” The man’s voice held no trace of remorse; rather the more she struggled against him, the more amused he seemed. Phil really hated bullies.

 

“I believe the lady said no.” Phil stepped further into the alley, grabbing a discarded wooden plank and holding it at the ready. He didn’t really want a fight (it was his night off, after all), but he wasn’t just going to ignore an assault. Both pairs of eyes flicked towards him, a brief flicker of hope crossing the girl’s face. The man, on the other hand, seemed entirely unconcerned by the interruption. He’d taken one look at Phil’s suit and clearly dismissed him as a harmless office worker.

 

“We were just having a bit of fun, weren’t we, darling?” the man leered, his free hand groping its way up the woman’s leg to cup her ass. She whimpered and tried to pull her leg as far out of reach as she could. It was enough to spur Phil into action.

 

The piece of wood made a satisfying thunk against the man’s back as Phil made his move. The plank splintered into pieces on impact. It didn’t take the man down – that would have been too easy – but it did cause him to grunt in pain and let go of the girl’s arms. With her hands free, she slapped the man hard across his face and danced backwards out of his reach as he tried to grab her. The man snarled angrily as he moved to chase her, but Phil drew the man’s attention away from her by kicking the back of his knees.

 

The man rounded on Phil with surprising speed and Phil had to duck quickly to avoid the punches aimed at his face. He reached behind him for anything to use as a weapon and was relieved when his hand landed on a empty beer bottle. He let the man get close enough to land a punch that would definitely bruise later, so that Phil could bring the bottle down on his head. Glass shattered everywhere and the man howled in anger as some of the pieces cut into his face.

 

Phil glanced around to make sure that the girl was safe, but she’d disappeared as if she’d never been there in the first place. The man chose that moment to dive at Phil’s ankles and Phil found himself sprawled on the pavement. He rolled to the left as his attacker’s fist slammed into the space where his head had been, hard enough to crack the concrete.

 

“I could do this all day,” Phil offered in a bland tone that hid just how fast his adrenaline was pumping. He managed to duck the next two fists and a sweeping kick that tried to take out his kneecaps. In return, he managed to land a single kick to the man’s ribs that didn’t even knock the wind out of him. The man could take a beating, he’d give him that.

 

“Enough!”

 

In an instant, he was pinned to the alley’s wall by hands that gripped like iron shackles. He was no longer alone with the thug. There were two more brutish men who’d appeared literally out of nowhere and it bothered Phil that he couldn’t say if they’d been there the whole time or if he’d allowed himself to get so preoccupied by the fight that he hadn’t noticed their arrival. Either way, if Barton found out about it, he’d never hear the end of it.

 

The original attacker moved closer now that he was no longer at risk from Phil’s fists. He was obviously the leader, as the two new thugs were watching him carefully as they waited for further instructions. The man held Phil’s gaze and Phil was determined not to look away first. Which was why he didn’t notice the man’s right hook coming straight at him until it was too late to duck. The thugs laughed as Phil’s head snapped to the side. Phil could take a punch, but the strength behind the fist was almost inhumane and he gritted his teeth against the pain.

 

“You shouldn’t have interfered. I can’t tolerate assholes meddling in my affairs.” The would-be rapist ran a hand over the cuts on his cheek and Phil had to fight not to show his surprise as the skin knitted itself together in front of his very eyes. He was a SHIELD Agent; these fuckers would have to do better than that to get a reaction out of him.

 

As he stubbornly refused to say anything more or drop his eyes, Phil realised that there was something familiar about the man. He’d swear that he’d never seen him before in his life, but there was something about the line of his jaw and the way the man carried himself that he knew he’d seen before. But he couldn’t place it.

 

“Honour demands payment for such a slight against me,” the man said loftily, with a wicked grin. The two goons holding Phil in place seemed to like that idea, tightening their grip painfully and smirking. The leader looked almost thoughtful as he ran a hand down Phil’s chest. “Maybe I should finish what you interrupted.”

 

“Men who attack defenceless girls in alleys have no business talking about honour,” Phil offered through clenched teeth and the men laughed. The one on the left loosened his grip and Phil was able to yank his hand out. His fist flew towards the face of the thug still holding his right side but it never landed. Instead the leader’s fingers clamped over his wrist, crushing his watch. The man’s grip was so tight that the watch clasp broke and it fell uselessly to the ground.

 

The man let out a startled yell and his fingers instantly let go, although other hands grabbed Phil’s arm before he could even think of using it. Very slowly, the leader moved Phil’s jacket sleeve up to reveal the thin band of leather circling his wrist.

 

“Where did you get this?” Suddenly, all trace of calm amusement was gone from the man’s expression, and he shoved Phil’s wrist up to his face. Underneath where his watch had been was a bracelet that Barton had given him for Christmas the year before. It was made of interwoven leather bands in an intricate Celtic pattern and Clint had insisted that he put it on immediately. Phil already knew that he’d do anything to see the younger man smile and it hadn’t exactly been a hardship to slip the band around his wrist. He’d been wearing it for so long now that it had become almost second nature.

 

“It was a gift from a friend.”

 

“Fucking protection magick,” the thug on the right spat and the other one agreed with him.

 

“Let’s not be hasty. This might just work out even better. Are you close with this friend of yours?” the leader asked, and there was something about the predatory glint in his eyes that disturbed Phil more than anything else he’d seen so far.

 

“Not really. We exchange cards once a year or so,” Phil lied. He’d gotten himself into this mess and he wasn’t about to drag Barton in as well. The man’s smile got wider.

 

“You’re a wonderful liar. You should thank your friend properly. Such a princely gift deserves something of equal value, don’t you think?” The man was taunting him and Phil kept his face carefully neutral to deprive him of a reaction. It didn’t seem to matter though, the man clearly had something planned and Phil doubted he’d like it.

 

“He seemed quite pleased with the Ikea voucher I gave him.” Phil deadpanned and the leader roared with laughter, shaking his head as full-bodied shudders rolled through him. When he straightened back up, he clapped a hand down on Phil’s shoulder painfully hard.

 

“I see why he likes you. Mortals can be so boring, worrying about all those little insignificant things. But you amuse me. Like a puppy that doesn’t know it’s place yet. Besides, my little brother used to beg me for a pet when we were kids. It’s about time I delivered.” The leader nodded meaningfully at the thug on Phil’s right who’d never loosened his grip. The goon grinned, leaning closer to the captive agent until his breath was hot and wet against the skin of Phil’s neck.

 

“Don’t play with your food.”

 

The asshole’s teeth sank into Phil’s skin, drawing blood and tearing through the muscles beneath the surface. It hurt, but no worse than any other injury he’d obtained in the field. But as the thug pulled away, the burning sensation started. Spiralling out from the wound, it felt like his blood was being replaced with acid as it ran through him. His lips parted as his breathing got faster, almost gasping as his body struggled to get enough oxygen and he let out an involuntary groan of pain.

 

“Look at the moon, pup.” Phil felt rough hands grip beneath his chin and forcibly tilt his head backwards. The night sky was usually dimmed by the brightness of the city light, but tonight Phil could clearly see hundreds of stars in the small patch of sky between the two buildings. The full moon was a brilliant white and Phil couldn’t help but stare at it as he was roughly shoved into a beam of direct moonlight.

 

If the pain before was awful, this was worse. The sudden agony was overwhelming, and this was coming from a man who’d taken three bullets and still managed to complete his mission objectives before seeking medical assistance. It felt like all of his bones were shattering and his insides were pretending to be novelty balloon animals, contorting into different shapes. It felt like there were a thousand angry fire ants crawling beneath his skin and pushing outwards. He sank down to his knees, putting his hands out in front of him to keep his balance as he panted for breath.

 

The three assholes were still standing around laughing at him. As he looked up at them through the haze of pain, his perception distorted and shifted their faces into something terrifyingly inhuman. The one who’d bitten him had teeth sharp as razors and his hair was thicker, more like a mane of fur that highlighted the canine ears jutting out from the top of his head. Phil’s blood still dripped from his mouth and Phil would have run if he could.

 

The other thug was greenish and gaunt, with talon like claws that reached out towards him. The thing let out a high-pitched cackle when Phil tried to scramble back and found that none of his limbs were working the way that they should. He looked down and found that his two hands weren’t hands anymore; instead he had two grey, furry paws. When he turned his head to one side he thought he could see a tail wrapped around one of his furry legs. What the fuck had they done to him?

 

He glanced up at the leader and almost whimpered. He was the most human looking out of the three, long pointy ears aside. But there was an aura around him, harsh and red and angry that only added to Phil’s terror. The leader’s icy stare seemed to be ripping through the layers of Phil’s fur and skin and examining his very insides. He squirmed uncomfortably and when the leader dropped his gaze, Phil felt a wave of relief at the dismissal.

 

“Run along, little wolf. Tell Clint I said hi,” the leader said, laughing as Phil tried to coordinate himself on four legs. He growled deeply and snapped his teeth at their ankles as they walked away and left him. He wanted to give chase, to hunt down his assailants and tear them to pieces with his bare teeth. A small, tiny part of him was horrified by the thought.

 

A larger part of him revelled in it.

 

They’d disappeared by the time he managed to coordinate himself out of the alley. A strong scent tugged at his senses above the more mundane smells of the city around him. It was a deep, rich smell that reminded Phil of an evergreen forest glen that he had never seen before. It reeked of magick.

 

He took off at a stumble, but instinct seemed to kick in and propelled him forward into an easy gait. The few people on the street avoided him, and Phil was pleased. The desire to hunt was all consuming and the scent was like a siren. If anyone had tried to stop him or gotten in his way, he’d have torn their throats out. They should know better than to be out during the full moon; after all, he wasn’t the only creature roaming the streets.

 

It was hard to tell when he’d first registered what he was seeing. At first it was just a couple of moving shadows or a brief flicker of movement too fast to be a cat or a mouse. But now that he could see them, soon they were everywhere: imps lying in wait for some poor hapless mortal or goblins rummaging through trash. He could feel them watching him as he ran and he could hear some of them cackling. He felt like snapping at them or pulling at the dark winding threads of their magick until it started to unravel and they begged him to stop. Not tonight, but there’d be other nights for hunting hags and ghouls.

 

Tonight, he only had one thing on his mind. He needed to find the source of the intoxicating scent. The bracelet was still wrapped around his paw, glowing faintly with magick and tugging him in the right direction. He found himself in an entirely different part of town, running through bushes and shrubs in a small park. Finally, he could see his prey. At the other end of the park, a man was laughing as his dog bought him back a ball.            

 

Power rolled off the man and the deep purple aura projected a sense of safety, of pack. Even from across the park, he could tell the man wasn’t the mortal he pretended to be. Some small voice at the back of his mind let out a surprised yelp at that observation but there were more important things at hand. Like the way that the man’s head snapped up when he felt eyes watching him.

 

Raw power surged around him, visible to Phil’s newly enhanced senses in a way that was terrifying. The man had a sharp knife in hand that glowed brightly with magick and Phil let out a whimper of fear. His eyes were locked on the man and he was taken entirely off guard when the man’s dog barrelled into him from the side.

 

Growling, he gnashed his teeth at the dog, but the animal didn’t seem phased by the danger. Instead, he feels the dog’s tongue licking enthusiastically at the underside of his jaw. The rage that had been pounding through him and fuelling his instincts since the attack, faded slightly and he allowed himself to enjoy the comfort and brief sense of companionship that the animal was offering.

 

The awareness of strong magick moving closer brought his attention back to the man. The man no longer looked angry or defensive as he moved closer to Phil and the dog. Instead, his blue eyes just looked sad and worried, and he sat down on the grass just in front of them.

 

Something inside him drove Phil to take the small steps forward to close the distance between them. His head nudged against the man’s leg, the closest he dared get without invitation. Within him there was a warring sense of safety at the man’s familiarity and danger at the man’s obvious power, and Phil didn’t understand any of these new feelings or senses or the sudden instincts filled with rage and bloodlust. He whined pathetically and the man’s hand came up to rub at the fur behind his ears.

 

“We can’t do this here,” the man said after a while. The words were quiet but firm, and Phil let out a small noise of protest when the man removed his hand from his fur and stood up. He watched as the man walked away from him with his dog following close at his heels. Those piercing blue eyes had the barest hint of amusement in them when they glanced back and saw that Phil hadn’t moved.

 

The man clicked his fingers and made a small hand gesture, and Phil fell into step behind him as naturally as breathing. He watched as the creatures that had taunted him earlier took one look at the man and faded back into the shadows. It was a short trip before they reached a familiar apartment building, but it confirmed his instincts that this man was so much more than he appeared.

 

When they entered the apartment, his senses were flooded with the man’s scent and his own and another, all mixed together and providing a strong sense of pack. He was safe, and it was like the wolfish thoughts that had been dominating the forefront of his mind suddenly parted and recognition seeped through. His head snapped back to the door, and sure enough Barton was still standing in the doorway, watching him carefully.

 

The instincts that had guided him this far seemed to recede a little and the desire to hunt down his prey faded away. The roaring bloodlust that had seemed so normal as he’d run through the streets drained out of him, leaving behind the bitter taste of disgust. Those bastards had turned him into a wolf, but he was the one who’d let his instincts get away from him. If he’d hurt someone, if he hadn’t found Barton… Phil didn’t even want to think about it. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to look Clint in the eye again.

 

Clint seemed entirely too unfazed by the fact that he’d invited a wolf he’d met in the park back to his apartment. Lucky had decided that Phil wasn’t worth any more of his attention and had disappeared into the small kitchen looking for food. So Phil moved back towards Clint, bumping against his legs. A warm surge of energy sparked where his fur brushed against Clint’s leg. He wasn’t sure that he wanted to explore the sensation or what it meant. The whole situation was completely outside anything he’d ever had to deal with and he moved away before his mind could focus too much on the fact that he wasn’t even sure how much of Phil Coulson, Agent of SHIELD actually remained.

 

Instead, Phil went and curled up on the couch in the spot where his scent was the strongest. Clint said nothing as he came over and took his usual place next to Phil. He flicked on the television but Phil couldn’t focus on the noise and the electronic light. His sole attention was on the soothing sensation that settled over him now that he was surrounded by Clint’s scent and that same powerful aura that had terrified him in the park. He rested his head on Clint’s leg and relaxed as those broad hands started to run through his fur.

 

“Phil?” Barton asked quietly after a while. Phil didn’t know how Clint knew that it was him, but at that moment it didn’t seem important. He was close to dozing and he just tilted his head so that his eyes were watching Clint. Close up, he couldn’t help but notice the pointed ears and inhuman features on a face that was so clearly the same as the entirely human one that he was familiar with. Still, the face was human enough that he could still easily read the worry and regret that was written all across Clint’s expression

 

“I’m so sorry,” Clint said softly, his hands still running through Phil’s fur in a way that was incredibly comforting. “This isn’t something that can be explained away by SHIELD R&D or a mission that you move on from once it’s over.”

 

Phil whined, moving his head to nudge against Clint’s chest as he tried to comfort the other man. Barton shouldn’t be worrying about him. Unlike so many other times in their working relationship, he wasn’t concussed or bleeding or been compromised in any way. Instead, his senses were heightened and he felt powerful from the raw magick that was running through his paws. He was here with Clint and Clint was pack and he couldn’t think of anything else he needed in the world, except maybe a challenging hunt every now and then. But he had no way to tell Clint any of this and he had no way of knowing when he’d be able to form human words again. Instead, Phil did the only thing he could think of, he licked the bare skin of Clint’s arm.

 

“Eww! That’s gross, Coulson,” Clint complained, but he started to laugh when Phil did it again so Phil couldn’t have been more content with the outcome. The deep rumble of satisfaction that seemed to roll through his body was a bit of a shock but it made Clint laugh even more so Phil just went with it.

 

“Well, I’m fairly sure tomorrow is going to be awkward as fuck and full of long conversations that neither of us are going to enjoy. I’m gonna hit the sack and make sure I’m nice and well-rested for an Agent Coulson interrogation,” Clint said, moving to get up from the couch.

 

Phil whined pitifully, scrambling to his feet and after the archer as Clint moved down the small corridor to his bedroom. He didn’t really know why, only that the couch hadn’t seemed as comfy once Barton stood up. Barton turned in the doorway and seemed utterly unsurprised to find Phil behind him.

 

“Really, Coulson? Even Lucky’s happier sleeping out here on the couches.” The other canine was happily asleep, curled up on one of the armchairs. Phil guessed he could have done the same, but his instincts were telling him to stay close to Clint so he butted his head against the man’s leg until the man stepped out of the way. Phil was up on the bed before he’d even really registered that Barton had moved, making himself comfortable surrounded by Clint’s warm scent.

 

“Okay then,” the other man laughed, pulling his shirt off over his head and slinging it towards a corner as he moved towards the bed. “You’d better not punch me for this in the morning.”

 

Barton lay down on the left side of the bed and Phil curled up against his side feeling distinctly pleased with himself. He fell asleep with Clint’s fingers woven deep in his fur and a deeply satisfied rumbling sound in his ears.

 

~~~

 

Phil drifted awake slowly, groaning as he ran one hand over his face and tried to shake off the weird dreams from the night before. Normally, only his nightmares had such vivid clarity, but while odd, the dreams hadn’t been terrifying. It was almost like he could still smell Barton’s unique scent all around him. He tugged at his pillow, wondering if he had enough time to slip back to sleep for a little while before his alarm went off.

 

Only the scent of Barton got stronger as he breathed into his pillow. It startled Phil enough that he snapped back awake and started to take better stock of his surroundings. This wasn’t his apartment. Judging by the luxurious purple bedspread and the archery paraphernalia, he’d have to guess that it was Barton’s bedroom. But that was impossible, wasn’t it?

 

He rolled out of the bed and moved silently towards the door before catching sight of himself in the mirror. Those weren’t his pajamas, or even the suit that he’d been wearing the day before when he’d left work. The shirt is too loose around the shoulders and he’d never have voluntarily put on a pair of sweatpants with writing on the ass.

 

Something else seemed off though, and Phil took a couple of steps closer to the mirror. It was definitely his reflection, but not the one that he was used to seeing. It was almost as if everything about him seemed harsher, his teeth and nails somewhat sharper and more predatory. Or maybe it was just his mind playing tricks on him after the weird dreams. When he pulled down the collar of the shirt, there was no trace of a bite mark.

 

With a shrug, he rubbed a hand over his face again and turned away from the mirror. He needed answers and second-guessing his own reflection was only going to give him more questions. Judging by the smell of bacon and the sound of Clint’s off-key warbling, Clint was making breakfast. Phil’s stomach grumbled loudly; it wasn’t too much of a stretch for him to work out what his next move should be.

 

But when Phil stepped into the apartment’s kitchen, he tensed and reached for one of Barton’s hidden weapons caches. The thing wearing Barton’s face seemed completely unfazed by the gun his guest had pointed at him. It looked at him with Barton’s sharp blue eyes and Phil really wished that the glowing purple aura wasn’t trying to reach towards him and wrap him in a warm haze of safety.

 

“Who are you?” Phil snapped sharply. “Where’s Agent Barton?”

 

“Sit down, Coulson. You’ll get a full report soon enough, but that conversation is going to be long, most likely unbelievable and awkward as fuck, so I’m not having it before we’ve both had coffee and bacon.”

 

Well, the thing sure did sound like Barton. Phil drew in a deep breath and forced himself to think of it as another mission. The thing had not been hostile or threatening towards Phil and even if he’d harmed the real Barton, Phil would probably be able to find out more if he was civil. He was normally pretty good at talking people around to the information he wanted. Plus the bacon was starting to smell really good.

 

Slowly, with one last glance at the pointed ears, he holstered his weapon and the thing grinned. A small knot of tension that had been curled in Phil’s stomach unwound involuntarily at the smile, but Phil made up for it by watching the thing warily as he grabbed a mug of coffee. The warm, delicious aroma of the coffee seemed extra strong and inviting that morning and Phil couldn’t quite help the small moan of pleasure as he took his first sip.

 

“Now I know you aren’t, Barton. Barton’s coffee is absolutely awful,” Phil said, but there was no edge to his words and it felt more like the easy banter he usually fell into around the archer.  

 

“Or your senses are better equipped to handle it this morning,” the Barton creature said offhandedly, but the purple aura flickered and dimmed slightly and Phil just knew that the words had made him unhappy.

 

“What happened last night?” Phil asked, because that was probably the safest question.

 

“You know better than I do. You found me while I was playing with Lucky at the park and I bought you back here.”

 

“I dreamt about that, I think.” Phil said thoughtfully. “I dreamt I stopped a mugging but one of the three guys bit me and I turned into a wolf. Pretty silly, huh?” Phil joked, trying to make light of the situation and ignore his displeasure at the lack of actual information. He took another swallow of the perfect coffee and took some small comfort from that.

 

“Not so silly. You’re a werewolf, Phil.” There was no trace of humour across Barton’s face and Phil choked on his coffee in an extremely undignified way, which he’d deny if Barton ever mentioned it at work.

 

“Like in some bad teen romance? I thought we were having a serious discussion here.” The idea was absolutely ludicrous and Phil couldn’t help but let out a bark of laughter. But Barton wasn’t laughing, hadn’t even cracked a smile and there was an almost instinctive desire to try and cheer him up. “And what does that make you? Some sort of magician? A vampire?”

 

“Faerie, actually.” There was a hard look in Clint’s eyes as he spoke, as if daring Coulson to keep laughing. Coulson swallowed down the last of his mirth at the sudden realisation that Barton wasn’t joking, that he was in fact deadly serious. It was like a sixth sense, something was telling him that what Clint was saying was the absolute truth. Or at least, the truth how Clint saw it anyway.

 

“So you’re saying I wasn’t dreaming? That last night really happened?” Clint just nodded and those memories that Phil had shoved out of his mind when he woke up came flooding back to the forefront. He remembered the mugging and the way the goons had appeared out of nowhere. Even the memory of the leader’s face was enough to send a shudder through him. But he also remembered the sense of trust, familiarity, and something deeper when he followed Clint home. “You really are Clint Barton?”

 

“I am Clint Barton, or rather, that is the current identity that I have assumed. But it is not the only name that I have gone by.” The words were oddly formal, so completely different from Barton’s normal tone that Phil couldn’t help raising an eyebrow. Barton smiled and shrugged. “Gotta watch my wording, given I can’t tell a lie.”

Somehow, given all of the other absolutely batshit crazy things that Clint had been spouting, that was the statement that made no sense. It was like Phil just couldn’t make sense of the words and he hated the unfamiliar feeling of being so far out of his depth that he couldn’t even tell which way was up anymore. His wrist felt warm and he glanced down to see the bracelet that Clint had given him for Christmas, glowing faintly with the same purple haze that surrounded Clint. He remembered how the leader of the muggers had been fascinated by the trinket and he reached down with the sudden urge to tear the thing off his wrist.

 

“Don’t!” Clint yelled, one arm jerking out to stop Phil even if he was too far away to actually touch him. Still, Phil let go instantly; an ingrained response from their field relationship and the sheer number of times listening to Barton’s warnings had saved his life. The bracelet wasn’t exactly a grenade though, and weird glow or not, it hardly seemed dangerous. Phil tilted his head to one side and Barton flushed red with embarrassment as he let his arm fall.

 

“Please don’t take it off,” Clint entreated. “I put a protection spell on it. Most fae magick won’t work while you’re wearing it and it tells everyone that if they mess with you, then they’ll have to answer to me. You’re the only one who can take it off, and right now, you need it more than ever.”

 

“The muggers last night recognised it. It was only after that that they decided they were going to bite me.” Phil didn’t try and take the bracelet off though, and Clint looked a little too relieved. It was getting to a point where Phil needed this conversation to be over soon, because otherwise he didn’t know how he was going to deal with it. If he could just get it over with, he could go home and watch mindless reality television for two days before he had to deal with the world again on Monday.

 

“So let me get this straight. Last night I was attacked by three supernatural creatures and turned into a werewolf. You are a faerie and the bracelet you gave me has magical powers. I suppose next you’ll be telling me that Nick’s a vampire.”

 

“You’d think so wouldn’t you? It’s the whole long black coat and appearing out of shadows and just generally being a secretive mother fucker,” Clint chuckled. “Sadly, as far as I’m aware, Fury is not a vampire. But he does know about all of this in case you wanted to talk to someone other than me.”

 

“Good. That’ll make the debrief on Monday go a bit smoother.”

 

“Monday?” Clint asked incredulously.

 

“Well the world isn’t ending and neither one of us is injured or dying, so I’m sure it can wait until I get back to the office on Monday. Somehow there always seems to be more paperwork if you interrupt the Director’s weekend.” Phil tried for a joke, but it seemed to have the absolute opposite effect on Barton.

 

“For fuck’s sake, Phil. This isn’t something you can write up a sitrep for and just get back to work. You’re not even the same goddamn species you were yesterday.” The archer was definitely angry and his words hit Phil like he’d shot him with his bow.

                                        

“Assuming that’s true, and yes, I’m aware that the evidence supports your theory, then SHIELD needs to be briefed on my change in status, and if they aren’t already aware, of the existence of the supernatural.” Maybe he was tired, but his perfectly calm tone and his blank expression seemed a little harder to hold in place than usual.

 

“I’m not saying don’t tell them, although talk to Fury before you go making any big announcements or campaigns for werewolf rights in the mess. All I’m saying is that you need time to adjust, relearn your senses and get used to the fact that you can now see all the weird shit that humans don’t have to deal with.”

 

“Do you remember that time in Senegal? I took a knife to the gut and still ran the rest of the mission until we had successfully taken out the target. Or when I was captured in Armenia and those bastards pumped me so full of drugs that I was seeing triple? I still broke myself out and was waiting for you with the intel by the time you broke in to rescue me.”

 

“I get it Coulson, you’re a fucking badass. I still don’t think you should go in on Monday. Take a week off, learn the extent of your senses and then you can get back to terrifying junior agents once you have all the intel.”

 

“Different species or not, Barton, I am still Agent Phil Coulson of SHIELD. I am not injured or compromised and I am still capable of doing my job. I will walk into that office on Monday morning and debrief the Director and then work my way through the mountain of paperwork you seem to accumulate every time you get sent out on a mission.”

 

“You think you can just act like nothing has changed?” Clint’s voice was incredulous. “Please don’t do this, Phil. It’s easy to say nothing has changed here in my apartment. But out there, it’s a whole different ball game and I might not be around if you can’t handle it.”

 

“Nothing has changed, Barton. I appreciate the information but I feel fine and I’d like to go home now. I’m sure two days will be sufficient to take into account any issues that my change in species has created.” Phil knew that he wasn’t being fair to Clint and really, even if what he was saying sounded like gibberish, Phil’s gut was telling him it was true. But right now he needed an escape route so that he could go and lick his wounds somewhere in private, and he needed to be competent and collected Agent Coulson until he got there or else everyone would see the cracks. He’d apologise to Barton later, of course, but right now being an asshole was a sound exit strategy.

 

“If you say so, sir.” Barton’s teeth were clenched and he clearly disapproved of Phil’s choices, but Phil knew that Clint could read his body language and see that it was a bad decision to keep him caged when he wanted to leave. “If you need me, sir, you call.”

 

“I will.”

 

With that, Phil straightened his shoulders and moved to walk out the door. The purple aura around Clint flared but the other man made no movement to stop him. The new instincts that he was only just beginning to notice told him that it wasn’t right to leave the safety of Clint’s apartment but he was very good at ignoring base instinct when needed. He was Agent Phil Coulson, certified badass (according to Barton) and he could handle a short trip on New York’s streets.

 

Phil walked out the door.


	2. Chapter 2

**~~~ Chapter 2 ~~~**

 

By the time Phil made it to his apartment, he was shaking. Every one of his senses seemed to be dialled up way past eleven; the smells and sounds were bordering on overwhelming. Each and every time someone brushed against him on the subway or the street, he’d barely been able to stop himself from snarling and forcibly relieving them of the offending body parts. It had felt like he was on a mission in hostile territory. And those were only the humans.

 

The streets had been filled with inhuman shapes and figures, peering out at him in amusement. They’d poked and prodded at him, pulling at his clothes and laughing as he struggled to keep his expression carefully blank. No one else could see the little fucks and they knew he couldn’t react. He saw a couple of people with the same glowing aura as Clint had, only in a variety of colours. Phil had steered well clear of them.

 

It felt like such a relief to be able to slam the door of his own apartment shut behind him. Phil breathed in deeply, taking comfort from being surrounded by his own scent and the absence of potential threats. Only, he wasn’t quite as alone as he’d like to be. It took him a moment to realise exactly why his instincts were still tense and alert, but in an instant he had his side arm pointed at the dark corner of the room without even really glancing at it. Really, he shouldn’t be that surprised.

 

“I take it Barton called you,” he said when the figure didn’t so much as blink at the gun. His newly enhanced senses couldn’t quite place exactly what he was scenting, but he’d been pressed up against enough people in the subway to know that the person in his apartment wasn’t human. “Barton said you weren’t a vampire.”

 

“Barton was right. I’m not,” Nick said with a casual shrug, moving towards the fridge now that he’d made his dramatic entrance.

 

“That’s a shame. Teenage girls would just love that coat and your pointless insistence on overly dramatic entrances.” Phil was sure that junior agents would have nightmares from the withering stare that Nick levelled at him, but Phil just shrugged and didn’t comment when the Director helped himself to a beer.

 

“Ha fucking ha, you sarcastic asshole. Now tell me why I had to hear from fucking Barton that you’d gone and got yourself bitten by a werewolf.” Nick sat down on the couch in front of Phil and kicked his boots up onto the small coffee table. It was hard to tell if the Nick in front of him was there as his boss or as his rather concerned best friend.

 

“Barton only told me two hours ago and to be honest I thought he was full of shit for almost half of that.” The whole morning had seemed entirely surreal and now that he thought of it, he wasn’t even sure where his phone was. It had been in his pocket along with his wallet when he’d gone out for take out and it hadn’t been high on his list of priorities when he suddenly found himself on four paws.

 

“Really, Cheese? I’ve watched you deal with some truly fucked up shit and you’ve never done more than bitch about the extra paperwork. But this is too much for you?”

 

“I’m fairly sure having my entire DNA restructured earns me the right to at least a small freak out, you asshole.” Phil decided that he couldn’t handle yet another overly serious conversation while sober. He moved across to his fridge and grabbed his own beer. “Besides, if you’d read me in on the fact that supernatural creatures were roaming the streets of New York earlier, I might have believed you. Given Barton’s rather notorious reputation for pranks, I spent the first ten minutes waiting for him to reach a punchline.”

 

“Strictly need to know, you know how it is.” Nick looked vaguely apologetic, and Phil couldn’t be too angry. He’d always known that Nick kept a lot of secrets and he’d never had any desire to know more than what was relevant for the job at hand. Most people would go mad trying to sift through the mess of weird, awful and just goddamn traumatic shit that made up SHIELD’s intelligence network.

 

“And now I need to know,” Phil said quietly, cracking his beer open and taking a sip. He really wasn’t expecting the bitter taste and the sudden rush to his head, and he wound up coughing it up. Nick started laughing and Phil glared at him, wishing he didn’t feel like a teenager caught stealing his first sip of booze.

 

“Your senses aren’t going to work the way you’re used to. I’m sure you’ve noticed that by now,” Nick explained, his amusement obvious. Phil put the beer down on the small coffee table and pushed it as far away as he could.

 

“I guess that explains Barton’s sudden ability to make decent coffee.”

 

“It goes deeper than that. You can adjust to your senses, but you’ve got a wild animal underneath your skin. It’s going to make keeping that bland Coulson poker face more of a challenge than you’re used to. I’m not sure the psych department is prepared for the flood of Junior Agents that lose their shit because you suddenly have emotions.”

 

“What are you saying?”

 

“I’m saying that Barton told me that you thought you were going to drag your idiotic ass in to work on Monday and I’m here to tell you it’s a stupid idea.” There was intensity behind the statement, and Phil’s instincts were shouting at him to back down, to not provoke such a powerful creature. Of course, the rest of Phil resented the hell out of being talked to like a week one cadet flunking out of SHIELD’s academy.

 

“I am perfectly capable of doing my job,” Phil insisted.

 

“How many people did you growl at on the trip over here? How many times did you want to tear someone’s throat out just for looking at you the wrong way? It’s basic instinct, Phil, and it gets worse when you are stressed or surrounded by people you don’t know.” Phil couldn’t bring himself to answer or admit that the truth in Nick’s words. Of course, Nick being Nick, took his silence as agreement anyway. “A week, Phil. Take one week off to get yourself under at least some semblance of control.”

 

“Five days,” Phil countered, but Nick just rolled his eyes.

 

“A week, Phil. If you keep arguing, I can make it two.”

 

“I thought you were worried about your Junior Agents. Most of them will think the world has ended if I’m not at work for a week.” He’d taken one sick day in the last year and Barton had sent him video footage of the baffled agents milling around his door in baffled groups. Jasper had filled him in on some of the new conspiracy theories that had popped up when he wasn’t in the office for 24 hours. His favourite rumour had suggested that he was trialling some sort of new invisibility tech and he was actually working at his desk the entire time and judging all of them for believing he’d actually take a day off.

 

“For fuck’s sake, Phil. I don’t actually give a shit about the other agents. I’m trying to help you, you asshole.” Nick’s one good eye glared at Phil. “I swear, next time you try to tell Barton off for ignoring medical advice, he’s going to laugh in your face.”

 

“I’ll take the week off,” Phil conceded, feeling slightly like a jackass. Both Barton and now Nick were only trying to help him and he was being stubborn, which rarely helped anything.

 

“Good.” Nick stood, drinking down most of his beer in one gulp. “Seriously though, Cheese, this is some full on shit that you have to deal with and I’m sorry you got dragged into it. You need anything or you want to talk, you call. I don’t care if it’s 3am or you’ve just chased an imp down the street and gotten yourself lost, you call me. And if I can’t deal with it because the world is ending, then call Barton.”

 

“Thanks, Nick. I’ll see you in a week.”

 

“And not a minute before. I’ll send you some paperwork and files to look over, but I don’t want you anywhere near SHIELD HQ,” Nick said, heading for the door. Phil once again caught that strong sense of ‘not-human’ mixed with raw power. “Take care of yourself, Phil.”

 

The door closed behind his friend and Phil let out a deep sigh of relief. His breath hitched as he tried to breathe in and suddenly it felt like his throat was closing. He curled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them as his body started to shake. His breathing didn’t even out, instead coming in short panicky gasps as he tried to wrap his head around everything he’d been told.

 

He was Phil Coulson and he was better than this. He’d kept his cool in life or death situations and yet here he was, freaking out in the safety of his living room. Of course, his brain helpfully reminded him that he’d kind of died yesterday and wasn’t even human anymore. Suddenly, he was gulping for air and it just didn’t seem to be making it to his lungs. There was something wet on his cheeks and he loathed the sense of fear and weakness that was flooding through him, but he couldn’t make it stop.

 

It felt like he was dying and all he could do was try and force the air into his lungs until the burning sensation in his chest faded. Time seemed to slow and then it just disappeared entirely.

 

He blinked awake what seemed like moments later only to find that it was no longer morning. There was a dull ache behind his rib cage and he felt completely wrung out, but at least the crushing weight of his panic was no longer hanging over him. Slowly he got to his feet, stretching out as best he could, hearing his joints crack in protest from being stuck in the same position for so long.

 

What he needed, Phil thought to himself, was a plan. That way he could try and claw back some of his control over himself and the rest of his life. He had a week to get it right, and no matter what Nick and Barton thought, he would be able to walk back into that office as if nothing had changed.

 

First though, he needed to work out exactly what had changed. Feeling slightly ridiculous, he focussed on his senses and tried to notice the difference. Only now that he was paying attention, it was like a floodgate swinging open. His own scent surrounded him as if it had seeped into each and every item in the room. But there were other smells too, like the stale take out in boxes by the sink or the faint lingering smell of his laundry detergent on his clothes.

 

His hearing was better. If he strained, he could hear the conversation his neighbours were having in the stairwell two floors below, and really, the characters of Real Housewives were not that fascinating. There were rats scratching in the walls, which made his fingers twitch with the desire to hunt them down. Out in the street he could tell that there was a dog rifling through garbage and far too many pedestrians and cars for it to be anything other than a blur of noise even when he focussed intently.

 

Sight, well he already knew he could see all the weird supernatural things and people, but aside from that it seemed the same, maybe a little bit clearer. The beer had proved just how badly warped his tastebuds were and he was not looking forward to trying all of his favourite foods only to discover that he no longer liked them.

 

Thankfully, he thought as he ran his hands carefully down the soft fabric of Barton’s borrowed sweats, his sense of touch hadn’t changed at all. It was extremely comforting to find something that was the same.

 

As he gave in further to his senses, he became increasingly aware of a deeper, more sinister urge. Something in his body wanted to shift, to allow the wolf to take over entirely. There was an energy underneath his skin trying to push outwards. Even though the idea was slightly terrifying, Phil gritted his teeth and loosened his control a little further. He needed to know the full extent of the changes, and it was better if he found his barriers here in his apartment instead of

on a mission. The electric sensation under his skin started to burn and he felt himself gasp in pain as his whole body began to shift outwards. Glancing down, he saw thick hair – fur, he corrected – pushing through his flesh. As the first bones in his hand started to crack, panic slammed through him and he tried to rein it back in.

 

At first he didn’t think he’d be able to stop. He could almost hear the wolf howling in his head and trying to claw its way through his remaining self-control. But Phil was stubborn, clinging to his humanity with every ounce of will and determination that he possessed. Eventually, he managed to hold the energy back and he was left lying on the floor and gasping in air from exertion, but still in human form. He wouldn’t be doing that again in anytime soon.

 

~~~

 

Phil spent the whole weekend in an almost constant state of war with himself. It was like balancing on a knife-edge; if he relaxed too much the wolf was there, just waiting for him to drop his guard, but if he thought too much about his new species he always came close to panicking and losing control of his instincts all together. It was incredibly exhausting and he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to make it through a whole week of this without anything to distract him.

 

Still, by lunchtime Monday he hadn’t lost control and killed someone. He hadn’t even maimed his neighbours when they kept him up half the night with their rather enthusiastic end to date night. So he was feeling a little bit more confident about the whole situation and just wondering if he should risk venturing out for food rather than ordering in, when his doorbell rang.

 

Phil didn’t have to open the door to work out who it was. His senses had immediately heightened at the unexpected noise and that was definitely Barton’s scent and that same distinctly wolfish sense of pack that he’d only felt when he’d been in Barton’s apartment. A small part of him protested against the animalistic thought and suggested he send Barton away, but the rest of him knew that just because he was having a rough time it didn’t excuse him for acting like an asshole to his friend.

 

Barton was standing awkwardly in the corridor outside Phil’s door, looking incredibly nervous. In one arm he was holding a number of books and some files which, along with the SHIELD logo on his shirt and his combat pants, suggested that he’d come straight from work. He looked so incredibly normal that Phil felt better, even if he did have to ignore the purple aura around the man.

 

“Any chance you’re here to tell me about some huge catastrophe that needs me back at work immediately?” Phil asked as he greeted the man and let him into the apartment. He was only mostly joking, but Clint seemed happy enough to just go with the lighter mood.

 

“Yeah right, boss. Pretty sure the Director wouldn’t let your ass back into SHIELD this week if the world were ending. I’ve never seen him so rattled and he glared at every single person who asked where you were this morning. Most of the money is on some sort of top secret mission, although Sitwell was trying to convince the juniors that Fury wasn’t letting you back until you got laid for the good of the Agency.” Barton made himself at home in Phil’s space, placing the books and files down on the kitchen bench and pulling out one of the stools next to it.

 

“I’m sure Sitwell will regret that,” Phil said with a small smile as he moved closer to take a look at the pile of reading material. Some of it was the paperwork he’d been expecting, but in between were the files of older missions that he knew had been above his pay grade. Two of them had been missions that had called for Clint’s skills and Phil had gritted his teeth the entire time that someone else was in charge of making sure _his_ agent was safe. He’d seen those files before, filled with heavy black marks blocking out all but the barest of details. He wondered why Nick had sent them over now.

 

Along with those files, there were four books of varying thickness. Each one looked old and musty as if they’d come out of an antique collection or an occult store. The titles included things like ‘Introduction to lycanthropy’ and ‘The Supernatural world.’ He gave Clint a questioning look.

 

“Well, you said you’d be fine, but I know you like to have all the intel. The authors are people who’ve been through the same sort of stuff so it should give you a decent intro. I steered clear of all the New Age hippy bullshit and the teen romance novels.”

 

“I appreciate that, Barton,” Phil said with a wry smile. There was a soft rumbling sound and it took Phil a moment to work out that the noise had come from Clint’s stomach. The archer flushed bright red in a way that was completely adorable. Phil quickly broke away from that train of thought. Clint was a very attractive man, and Phil had spent so many years ignoring those stray desires that snuck into his mind around the archer that shoving the thoughts aside was almost an ingrained habit.

 

“Do you want to stick around for lunch?” Phil asked, moving to grab the takeout menus that were stuck on his fridge. He used to have all of his favourite orders memorised but, given his tastebuds were still adjusting to the change, he was actually enjoying retrying everything. It had been a pleasant surprise to find a positive mixed in with the other terrifying experiences that came with being a new werewolf.

 

“Sure. I’m pretty sure Fury doesn’t want me back at HQ anytime soon,” Clint said with a shrug. “We ordering in or heading out?”

 

“I’m not even sure what I feel like.” Phil flicked through the menus quickly, but nothing really caught his eye. Now that Clint had suggested going out, the idea of ordering in seemed to have lost some of its appeal. Frowning, he glared at the ‘Red Sun’ Japanese menu as if the answer to his lunchtime dilemma would magically become clear.

 

“You’re overthinking it.”  Phil glanced up, only to find Clint barely hiding his amusement behind a small smile and a questioning look. The other man slid off the stool and moved towards the door. “Come on. How ‘bout we go walk around for a bit and see what grabs your attention?”

 

After being cooped up in his apartment for pretty much the whole weekend, that idea sounded almost heavenly to Phil. The slight flutter of fear that he might lose control in public caused him to hesitate only briefly. He’d told Barton two days ago that he could handle it, so he wasn’t about to let his control slip in front of the other agent, even if it killed him. Grabbing his wallet and keys, he nodded in agreement. The man practically beamed at him and Phil let himself enjoy the small sense of warmth that seemed to be radiating from Clint.

 

Phil’s apartment wasn’t exactly in the ‘trendy’ area of New York, but it wasn’t far from a nice little strip of cafes and restaurants that could always be relied upon to provide a variety of decent food. The short walk was surprisingly uneventful. Phil could still see the pixies and goblins and all the other creatures stalking the streets and tormenting unsuspecting pedestrians. But unlike Phil’s subway ride home, not one came near him or even gave him a second glance. It made it a lot easier to resist the urge to growl or chase them, and even though he could sense the wolf beneath his skin, it felt content to simply walk next to Clint.

 

If Barton could see the same things Phil could, he didn’t show it. Instead, he kept up a steady stream of conversation even when Phil was clearly too distracted by something he’d seen to actually be absorbing anything.

 

“… and honestly, it’s not like Nat can talk. She was the one who let the juniors think they had a shot with her before she beat the crap out of them. What’s a couple of relatively harmless pranks compared to crushing all of that wonderful optimism and chauvinism?”

 

“The psychologists might argue with your definition of harmless,” Phil commented, but his voice lacked any reproach. Really, pranks had been a part of SHIELD almost since it’s creation. The agents that ended up needing therapy, because Barton has no respect for privacy while he worked on ‘vigilance training’, really weren’t cut out for field missions.

 

“They should be thanking me. I know that I’m the justification every year for some of their more excessive budget demands,” Clint said with a shrug. “How do you feel about burgers?”

 

“I could go for a good burger,” Phil agreed. He let Clint lead him down one or two side streets until they were out the front of a little hole in the wall diner. The shop front looked like it had been built decades ago and a battered looking sign above the door said ‘The Greasy Spoon.’ If he was by himself, he’d have most likely walked past it and tried for somewhere a bit more modern, but Clint didn’t hesitate as he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

 

A tired looking waitress directed them towards a shabby looking booth in a corner. Instinctively, Phil checked the sightlines and exits and was pleasantly surprised that the half circle shape of the booth and it’s location actually gave them a good view of the entire diner as long as they were careful where they sat.

 

“Let me know when you’re ready to order, ‘k?” The waitress drawled as she handed over the menus before shuffling away. There weren’t many other customers and Phil allowed himself to relax his guard a little further. His senses extended a little bit further than normal, until he could hear the waitress chatting casually with someone who may have been the cook and smell an absolutely delicious aroma of greasy burgers and fries wafting from the same direction. Best of all was the same rich forest scent that had called to him that first night as a wolf, surrounding Clint and drawing Phil in like an intoxicating siren call. Phil grabbed the closest menu and flipped it open, trying to stop wondering if Clint would taste just as delicious.

 

“Have you been here before?” Phil asked when Clint didn’t pick up his menu.

 

“A few times,” Clint confirmed. “The chef’s a genius in the kitchen, so I tend to just order the special. But it’s pretty much all good.”

    

Phil nodded, looking through the entire range of burgers before he settled on the classic beef burger and fries. When he put the menu down, he found Clint watching him with an unreadable expression on his face.

 

“How are you doing, Phil?”

      

Just for a second, Phil bristled with irritation at the concern and he had to bite down on the words ‘I’m fine’ because Clint deserved better than an instinctive lie. Instead, he took the time to make sure he was calm and thought about just how much he’d wanted someone to talk to while he’d struggled to deal with everything over the past few days.

 

“I’ve had better weekends,” he said eventually with a wry smile. “But then given half the things we’ve done with SHIELD, it hardly seems like it should be a blip on the radar.”

 

“Well at least you won’t have to fill out the post-mission paperwork for it,” Clint joked, bumping his shoulder against Phil’s.

 

“Don’t be so sure. I’m fairly sure that the Director has a full medical, all of the debriefing paperwork and whatever else he can find ready to throw at me as soon as I get back. Nick seemed to take personal offence that I managed to get myself in trouble on his watch.”

 

“Well, he might not think in terms of pack, but that man can be very protective of his friends. For someone in the dark about this kind of thing, you’ve managed to surround yourself with some very powerful allies.”

The waitress shuffled back over and took their orders with such a complete lack of enthusiasm that it was almost refreshing. Phil was fairly sure they could have been discussing assassinating Kim Kardashian and she wouldn’t have batted an eyelid. He could see why Clint liked the place, regardless of how good the food was.

 

“How did you get involved in all of this?” Phil asked once she’d taken their orders and disappeared back to the kitchen. Clint tilted his head to one side like he did on a mission when he wasn’t exactly sure what Phil was asking him. Phil made a vague gesture meant to encompass the purple glow and the pointy ears and that damned enchanting scent.

 

“I’ve always been involved in ‘all of this’.” Clint grinned a little when Phil frowned at him, but the amusement faded quickly as he continued. “I was born centuries ago and for the first two of those I had almost no interaction with humans. My parents were often preoccupied with other business or fighting with each other, so my brother and I were pretty much left to our own devices as long as we stayed close and didn’t get in the way.”

 

“Centuries?” Phil’s brain stuttered over the word in complete and utter disbelief. Clint smiled at him and flexed his arms ridiculously.

 

“I look pretty damn good for my age, don’t you think?” Clint asked jokingly and Phil let out a laugh. That seemed to broaden Clint’s smile and Phil wondered if maybe he should let himself laugh more often if that was the result. It had always seemed so important before that, even when they weren’t working, he maintained some of his professional distance around Barton. He’d never wanted to be accused of favouritism or make things awkward between them. Thinking back, it seemed more like paranoia than the sound judgement that he usually prided himself on.

 

“Voted Best Ass in SHIELD for three years running,” Phil agreed, which sent Clint into his own burst of laughter, his purple aura flickering in the same way that it had in Clint’s apartment.

 

“It’s only cos most of the junior agents have never seen you in a tac suit.” Clint’s tone was teasing but there was something in his eyes that made Phil glance away, feeling the heat rising in his cheeks and along the back of his neck.

 

“Are you still going to Uzbekistan this week?” Phil asked, changing the subject. They’d both been meant to ship out for a mission on Thursday, but that wasn’t going to happen now with Phil on medical leave. But that didn’t mean that Clint couldn’t go with a different handler.

 

“Nah, Fury decided to give it to Garrett and Ward. He’s got me running some advanced marksmanship courses because there’s a bunch of Agents trying to qualify or requalify for their firearms within the next few weeks.” Clint shrugged, and Phil felt a surge of relief. He’d always hated when he couldn’t oversee the archer’s mission and make sure that he got home safely.

 

“Well if it was between you and Ward teaching them, I think they got lucky. Ward’s a very talented marksman, but his people skills are somewhat lacking. Even your truly terrible sense of humour and insubordinate charm are an improvement,” Phil teased, just as the waitress brought over their meals.

 

Just as Clint had promised, the food looked delicious and smelled even better. Phil’s stomach rumbled in anticipation and he reached for a fry as soon as the plate hit the table. The special turned out to be a plate of wings and Clint let out a groan of pleasure as he took a bite. Phil took his time carefully lifting the burger to his mouth, because if the food was really that good then he was going to savour it.

 

Of course, as soon as that first mouthful hit his tastebuds it became a lot harder to maintain that resolve because every part of him wanted more. The perfectly cooked meat was topped with cheese that was melted just enough to coat his tongue with a sharp zest without being messy, crispy bacon and a sauce that he would have considered selling his firstborn for, if he ever had one. Phil’s senses narrowed almost entirely so that he could enjoy every single delicious aspect of his meal.

 

“Good?” Clint asked when Phil finished and stared mournfully at his plate as if just wishing would make another burger appear.

 

“Why did you ever let us eat anywhere else?” Phil asked, accusingly.

 

“I’ve got to keep a few aces up my sleeve for special occasions.” Clint looked entirely smug and satisfied with himself. “This place gets some more interesting customers at times. Some of these supernatural assholes have no idea how hard it is to maintain a decent cover.”

 

“How incredibly inconsiderate of them,” Phil agreed, reaching for his wallet. Clint reached out and caught of Phil’s wrist. Phil froze at the warm touch on his bare skin.

 

“Lunch is on me today,” Clint insisted and didn’t let go of Phil’s arm until the other man nodded. The archer smiled before sliding out of the booth and moving towards the counter. A man came out from the kitchen, grinning broadly when he caught sight of Clint. Apparently, Clint knew him because the archer smiled back and started talking. Phil forced himself not to listen, but he did find himself watching the unfamiliar man carefully.

 

It was quickly apparent that the man wasn’t human. He had that same aura around him that Clint did, only instead of purple it was a burnt orange glow. The man’s ears were pointed and Phil was getting a distinct smell of heat and burning that couldn’t fully be explained even if the kitchen had been on fire.

 

After a minute or two, Clint dug his wallet out of his back pocket and paid for their lunch despite his – friend? – shaking his head and trying to give it back. Phil knew from experience that Clint could be damned stubborn when he wanted to be so he wasn’t at all surprised when he managed to get the man to pocket the money. Clint made his way back to their table with a wide smile that made him look younger and even more attractive than usual.

 

“Ready to go, Phil?”

 

Phil nodded as he got to his feet. “I think I can hear all of that paperwork calling me,” he added ruefully, just to see if Clint would keep smiling. He wasn’t disappointed.

 

“Well, who am I to stand between a man and his love affair with bureaucracy,” Clint teased. As they passed the man at the counter, he waved. “I’ll see you next time, Johnny.”

 

“Anytime, Clint. Bring your friend as well,” the man offered, making no effort to conceal his curiosity as he looked at Phil. “It’s always nice to have a handsome face to look at.”

 

“You’re lucky your food’s so good or you’d never have any customers,” Clint retorted, reaching out and grabbing Phil’s arm to pull him faster towards the door. When they got out onto the street, Clint didn’t immediately let go of his arm and Phil didn’t try to pull away, enjoying the warm buzz of emotions the touch was generating.

 

“Friend of yours?” Phil asked.

 

“You could say that. Johnny and I’ve known each other for years. He’s a decent guy as long as you stay on his good side,” Clint said with a shrug.

 

“He seemed like a bit of a hothead.”

 

“Yeah, that’s about right. He’s a fire sprite. I met him when I spent some time in a circus. Believe it or not, he was a fire juggler. I mean, come on, could he be any more of a cliché? But he always made sure we ate well which was definitely an improvement on the slop that the fortune-teller used to make. When the circus fell apart, I suggested he could make a name for himself with a career change.”

 

“Well I’m glad you did. That was the best burger I’ve ever had.”

 

“I’ll let Johnny know you said so.”

 

They walked in companionable silence back to Phil’s apartment. It was only when Clint let go of his arm at his door that Phil realised that they’d maintained contact the entire way home. He hadn’t consciously noticed the connection, but he was definitely missing it now it was gone. He blushed slightly, wondering if Clint had thought it was weird. It was definitely unprofessional and he’d need to make sure he paid attention when he got back to SHIELD to make sure he didn’t accidentally slip up and touch Clint more than he should.

 

When Phil opened the door to his apartment and stepped inside, Clint didn’t follow. The other man looked slightly apologetic as he lingered in the doorway. “So, I know I said Fury didn’t want me back at HQ anytime soon, but I’m pretty sure Hill wants to yell at me for something and I told Mel I’d spar with her this afternoon.”

 

Phil couldn’t quite stop the disappointment from showing on his face. Somehow, he’d forgotten that Clint had to go back to work. The thought of being alone in his apartment sunk the remaining happy feelings that had lingered after such a pleasant lunch.

 

“I suppose I’ve got some reading to get started on,” Phil said with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. At least the books that Barton had brought with him would hopefully be useful.

 

“If you want to talk about any of it, you know I’m always happy to skip out on work. Or if you want to just grab lunch again,” Clint offered, with a small smile.

 

“I’ll have to take you up on that offer.” Phil smiled as well and Clint’s widened to a broad grin that lit up his entire face. The silence stretched pleasantly between them for a minute or two before Clint seemed to realise that if he didn’t go soon, he’d be skipping out on two of the most dangerous women at SHIELD, barring Natasha. Still, he hesitated.

 

“You sure you’re okay?” Clint asked.

 

“I’m fine, Clint,” Phil answered and it wasn’t even a lie. “Go on. I’ll call if I need to.”

 

“Sure thing, boss. I’ll see you soon.” Clint gave Phil one more look, before turning and striding away down the corridor, cheerfully whistling a tune that Phil couldn’t recognise.

 

Phil sighed and closed the door. Moving over to the bench, he grabbed the first book off the pile and headed for the couch. After all, he had a lot of reading to do and he might as well get started. If he was lucky, maybe it would calm the sudden churning of emotions and instincts that had surged to life as Clint walked away and once again the wolf was left without his pack.


	3. Chapter 3

**~~~ Chapter 3 ~~~**

 

Phil walked into SHIELD HQ a week later as if nothing had changed. Nick had probably been right to insist on a whole week. Twice, he’d wound up curled in a ball on the floor, fighting against the transformation. On Friday when he’d gone out to get some groceries, he’d been shoved by some asshole behind him in the line and he’d actually bared his teeth in a full on snarl. The guy had backed off incredibly quickly and the teenager behind the register had scanned his items through at an almost record breaking pace.

 

He’d read the books that Clint had brought him from cover to cover, trying to absorb as much of the information as he could. It was like his entire life was a mission based on faulty intel and at the last minute he was left scrambling to pull everything together again. It wasn’t just the faeries and werewolves and all of those irritating creatures that loitered on the streets to torment humans. Apparently, almost all of the ghost stories, myths and fairy-tales that he’d ever heard of were based on reality.

 

The mission files that Fury had sent over had been eye opening to say the least. He’d been expecting a couple of highly classified missions to keep him busy and stop him from constantly bombarding Nick with emails. What he got instead was intel on a range of SHIELD missions that dealt with the supernatural. It quickly became clear why he hadn’t been Clint’s handler on some of his missions and now that he was back, he was looking forward to working closely with the archer to get a better understanding of just what the other man could do.

 

Clint himself had saved Phil’s sanity over the last week. They’d gone out to lunch together twice, and on Saturday night, Phil had gone to Clint’s apartment for pizza and a couple of movies. Sitting on the couch with Clint next to him and Lucky curled up at his feet, it had felt so normal that Phil hadn’t wanted to go home. Even when he hadn’t been around, Clint had sent Phil a series of texts with a constant stream of updates about what was going on at SHIELD.

 

The way Clint had built it up, he’d kind of expected to have a small crowd around his office when he walked in on Monday. In fact it was more or less deserted except for a couple of bleary-eyed specialists around the coffee pot in the corner. Phil was a little disappointed, but then it was 7am on a Monday, so feeling a little disappointed was pretty standard.

 

Phil went and settled at his desk, making a start on the pile of paperwork in his in-tray. His office was as familiar as his own home and his wolf seemed at ease surrounded by his own things. After about an hour, he made himself a cup of coffee, trying to remember just how Barton normally did it. The outcome wasn’t quite the same, but it was still good. Another half an hour saw some of the other agents starting to wander into the office. Phil tried not to let his amusement show when some of them stopped to stare and point when they caught sight of him. He pricked his ears up, trying to catch some of the whispered comments.

 

_“I swear, that’s the same suit he was wearing before he disappeared.”_

_“Maybe RD perfected that time travel device and they sent him a week into the future to check it out.”_

_“I think robotics must have had him in for an upgrade. Look at how many forms he’s done already.”_

 

Not one of the gossiping agents bothered to come in, though. Instead, the knock on the door came several hours later and when Phil tilted his head up to look, Jasper Sitwell stood in the door looking entirely too amused. He was also giving off that distinct ‘not human’ vibe that Phil was getting good at recognising, and really, was he the only one in his circle of close friends who’d been human until recently?

 

“I’d heard the rumours, but this is so much better,” Jasper said without so much as a greeting. He was carrying an extra cup of coffee that he placed in front of Phil as he sat down in a chair on the other side of the desk. Given that Phil’s coffee cup had been empty for a while, he could let a few digs at his character slide in exchange for caffeine.

 

“I’m glad you’re finding this entertaining.”

 

“Well, it’s not every day that your friend and colleague gets himself turned into an oversized puppy. What did you do?” Jasper was smirking now and Phil felt himself bristle at the insult.

 

“It’s not like I did this on purpose.”

 

“No one ever does. So you’ve had a week off trying to get used to make sense of the world when you’ve got four paws and can see things that aren’t supposed to be real? How’d that go?” Phil glared at him, but it didn’t seem to make any difference to Jasper’s jovial mood.

 

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

 

“Whatever you say, Phil. I suppose you just want me to bring you up to date on work. You know what they say, ‘all work and no play’ . . .” Jasper sighed dramatically, before taking a sip of his coffee.

 

“If you can manage to drag yourself away from laughing at my expense, I would appreciate it. Barton seemed to delight in only telling me rumours and pointless gossip.” Phil relaxed a little as the conversation shifted away from his transformation.

 

“Barton? That little shit. Can’t fucking lie, my ass. That asshole looked me straight in the eyes and told me he’d heard you’d been kidnapped by aliens who needed you to organise their paperwork,” Jasper said indignantly.

 

Phil blinked, before cracking a small smile. Clint had neglected to pass that one on. “The key word in that sentence is ‘heard’. He listened to an awful lot of junior agents gossip last week, judging by the texts he sent me.”

 

“God, I hate semantics,” Jasper complained, adding a groan for emphasis. Phil settled back in his chair and just waited for the other agent to continue. He didn’t disappoint and was soon outlining all of the relevant mission outcomes, pending operations and R&D explosions that had occurred over the week.

 

Phil wrote down a few notes, but mainly he just listened. Being back at work gave his mind something to focus on and there was no internal struggle for control, just a determined sense of purpose.

 

About half an hour later, after he’d mentioned R&D’s plan to build Clint an arrow prototype that could act as a portable EMP, Jasper drained the last of his coffee and stood. “That’s about it, really. I mean, the number of explosions in the building barely made double digits. It was a slow week.”

 

“Thanks, Jasper,” Phil said, mentally rearranging his morning so that he could fit in meetings with Nick and Melinda to get more details on two or three missions that had been green-lit for planning. While being back in the office was helpful to his sanity, it couldn’t match the feeling of being out in the field.

 

“Any time, Phil. Now I’d better go find Barton and make him regret keeping valuable intel from me.”

 

Phil wasn’t exactly sure what happened next. One second, he was sat at his desk, feeling perfectly calm. The next, he had Jasper pinned to a wall by his throat and was snarling at him through bared teeth. As soon as he realised what he was doing, he was horrified, but he couldn’t make himself let go until Sitwell apologised for the threat.

 

Sitwell did not seem the slightest bit concerned by the hand around his neck. Instead, he seemed to look at it with an almost clinical curiosity. Then Phil lost his grip because where Jasper had stood there was suddenly nothing more than shadows that floated towards Phil. Instinct told him to run, and with a yelp he scrambled backwards until he was behind his desk watching the shadow warily.

 

And then, Jasper was back, standing in the middle of Phil’s office practically howling with laughter. It actually took him a couple of minutes to straighten up again and when he did, Phil thought he could see the hint of tears in his eyes.

 

“And I thought Mondays were supposed to suck. That’ll keep me amused for hours.”

 

“What was that?” Phil asked, trying to regain some semblance of control and thanking whatever gods existed that the corridor outside his office seemed to be deserted.

 

“Your claws don’t exactly work on Shadow demons. You’ve had all of a week to adjust to all of this? It’s going to take a bit to get back to your usual unflappable self,” Jasper said, with a shrug. When Phil didn’t seem especially reassured by that he added: “I promise I won’t let the fact that I’ve seen you emote ruin your reputation as a stone cold asshole.”

 

“I appreciate that,” Phil said dryly, clawing back some semblance of his normal dry sense of humour. “Also, if you do see Agent Barton, let him know I’m looking for him?”

 

Jasper gave him a long assessing look before nodding with a smile. “Sure, I’ll tell him. He should be at the range by now, and if I head that way I can find Morse and let her know I want in on one of her betting pools .”

 

“Do I even want to know?”

 

“Nope.” Jasper said cheerfully, as he headed out the door and left Phil to his paperwork.

 

~~~

 

The meeting that Phil arranged with Fury did not go quite the way he’d expected it to. Nick had assigned him a stack of missions to review, given him additional forms to complete about his attack, and told him to get his ass down to medical for a full workup before he forcibly dragged him there. All in all, Phil walked out feeling completely deflated and unreasonably irritated. He skipped out on the medical exam in protest and just headed straight back to his office instead.

 

When he opened his door, he was hit by the delicious smell of Chinese food and Clint’s unmistakable scent. The archer was lounging on the small couch that Phil kept in the corner of his office for nights when he didn’t make it home, or more recently, for when Clint felt like keeping him company. Clint had seemed to be asleep when Phil walked in, but as soon as the door closed he was sitting up and looking Phil over carefully.

 

“Rough meeting?” he asked sympathetically.

 

“You could say that,” Phil agreed. He moved across the room to sit behind his desk, and looked at the boxes of food that Clint had left on his desk. His stomach gave a rumble of approval at the thought of eating. “You didn’t have to bring me lunch.”

 

“I wanted to. Besides, the cafeteria is always ridiculously crowded and the food is awful.” That was a very valid excuse. As a human, the food served by SHIELD’s cafeteria was barely edible regardless of which base he was on. It was an almost universal certainty, on the list along side death and taxes. He could only imagine what it would be like now that his sense of taste was enhanced.

 

“Thank you,” Phil said softly, and tried to ignore the way that Clint’s face seemed flushed. Instead he opened the different containers to see what Clint had brought. There was rice and eggrolls and two other main dishes. “Did you want the chicken or the beef?”

 

“Uh… I thought we could share.” The words came out in a rushed exhale, but Phil could make them out, and if anything the blush across Clint’s cheeks only got deeper. Phil felt his own face heat for a brief moment as he thought about just how intimate sharing food could be. But his practical side took over soon enough, shoving those thoughts aside he reached for the boxes so that he could divide the food up.

 

“So, Sitwell said you were looking for me?”

 

Phil frowned, unsure how to explain. Logically, he knew that Jasper had been joking, but he’d reacted as if the other agent had actually been holding

Clint at gunpoint, and really he wasn’t proud of that. But he still hadn’t been able to stop himself from telling Jasper to send Clint to him so that he could make sure that his friend really was okay. It was completely ridiculous.

 

“I was hoping that after my meeting with Fury, we’d have another mission to start planning for.” Not entirely the truth, but not a lie either, because Barton could always tell when he was lying. Clint frowned at him, but didn’t say anything further until Phil handed over a box of Chinese food.

 

“Are you really surprised?”

 

Phil chose to ignore the question in favour of eating. While it wasn’t exactly revolutionary, the food was warm and the sauce hadn’t quite managed to congeal yet. It was definitely still an improvement on the cafeteria. Clint sighed after a moment and took the hint, before digging into his own food enthusiastically.

 

“Did the junior agents freak when they saw you in here this morning?” Clint asked after the silence had begun to stretch that little bit too far.

 

“A few of them did seem to react badly. SHIELD recruiting standards have never been so low.” Phil allowed himself a small smile, knowing it was mostly hidden behind the forkful of Chinese food that he was about to eat. Clint saw it anyway and grinned back.

 

“You’re telling me? I made four agents cry last week when I jumped out of a vent near them and one of them shrieked so loudly that I thought I was going to go deaf in one ear,” Clint complained, rubbing at his left ear as if remembering the high pitched noise.

“When’s Natasha due back from her mission?” Phil asked conversationally. Usually both Natasha and Clint reported to him, but every now and then Natasha got sent out on her own. Fury had insisted that Natasha’s unique skill set was needed for an undercover mission that Blake was overseeing. Phil knew vague details, but hopefully Clint had heard something more recently.

 

“Still no word, but initial reports suggest that she should be back by Friday.” Clint didn’t seem concerned, which was always a good sign. When it came to Natasha, and even Phil, he seemed to have a second sense for when something was wrong. Or at least that’s what Phil had always thought, but perhaps it wasn’t so much intuition as it was magick.

“Does she know what you are?” Phil blurted out the question almost at the same time it occurred to him that she might not. It was really hard to imagine Natasha not knowing something that important about Clint, but then a week ago, Phil believed that he’d known most of SHIELD’s secrets and he’d been proven wrong.   

 

“I’ve never told her and she’s never asked,” Clint said carefully, which wasn’t actually an answer. Now that he thought about it, Clint had made a habit of avoiding direct statements. Initially, he’d thought it was just an odd quirk or habit, although once he’d gotten to know Barton, he’d started to think it was just one more way that the archer used to irritate his handlers. Now he wondered just how much he’d missed not listening to the things that Clint wasn’t saying.

 

“But you think she knows?”

 

“She might. Sometimes she drops hints into the conversation that make me suspect, but other times she acts like she doesn’t know even when there’s no need for deception,” Clint said with a wry smile that told Phil he knew he was no longer going to get away with only half answering questions.

 

“Well at least I wasn’t the last to know.”

 

They fell into a comfortable silence as they ate. Phil kept his eyes on Clint and felt a strong primal surge of satisfaction that bordered on possessive. It felt right to have Clint in his space, their scents entwining and marking his office as pack territory.

 

His train of thought was interrupted by a knock, and he couldn’t stop himself from glaring at the door as it opened. Melinda May stepped inside Phil’s office with a determined expression and an arm full of files. She took one look at Phil’s glare, the half eaten food and Barton sprawled across the couch, and raised an eyebrow.

 

“Really?” she asked in an incredibly dry tone, but it wasn’t aimed at Phil. Clint shrugged but there was a smug smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. May just rolled her eyes. “Don’t you have someone else to bug, Barton? Coulson and I have actual work to do.”

 

“Whatever you say, May.” Barton rolled to his feet. He moved over to Phil’s desk and placed his food down next to the other container, his hand brushing against Phil’s arm. Phil fought to stop a blush creeping up the back of his neck because if May noticed, he’d never hear the end of it. Clint moved past Melinda before turning back from the doorway. “I’ll catch you later, Phil.”

 

“Stay out of trouble, Barton,” Phil said casually, but the look May gave him as she sat down told him he wasn’t fooling anyone. He sighed, wishing that May hadn’t interrupted them. Then he tried to push all of his thoughts about Barton out of his mind, difficult as that was. May rolled her eyes and pushed some of the files across the desk.

 

“How are you coping, Phil?” May asked calmly, flipping one folder open to reveal a stack of blank forms. At first glance, it just looked like the usual HR forms, but there were words like lycanthropy and enhanced characteristics, which made Phil glance at May. Unlike the other people he’d met who knew about the supernatural, he wasn’t getting any sense of power from her. She seemed entirely human.

 

“You aren’t…?” Phil didn’t know how to finish his question and he wasn’t sure he could have brought himself to actually say it out loud. May shrugged.

 

“Do you have any idea how much paperwork is involved in keeping track of the non-humans in SHIELD?” Phil didn’t bother to answer that and May sighed. “I’m sure it was Fury’s idea of a joke when I asked for a desk job.”

 

“SHIELD really does have forms for everything,” Phil said as he reached for the top form and a pen.

 

“And at least 12 just for Barton,” May agreed.

 

“Barton is definitely unique and unpredictable. It’s part of his charm.” Phil allowed himself a fond smile, but May’s expression looked like she’d sucked a sour candy.

 

“You’re disgustingly smitten,” she complained which made Phil blush. It never used to be this hard to control his expression, but he’d had a whole week where he hadn’t had to hide his emotions so maybe he was out of practice.

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Phil focused his attention on filling out the start of the paperwork. Maybe if he ignored her, May would take the hint and drop it.

 

“For a senior agent, you’re a terrible liar,” May told him, but she got to her feet anyway. “Drop the forms back on my desk when you’re done, and if you aren’t planning on mooning over Barton all night, Maria, Jasper and I were planning on getting drinks after work, if you want to join us?”

“I’ll think about it,” Phil said as she walked out the door and pulled the door shut behind her, leaving Phil alone. With a sigh, he stood and cleared the last of the Chinese off his desk and into the small wastebasket near his door. As he stepped past his couch, he took a deep breath and inhaled Clint’s lingering scent. Even though it had faded since he’d left the office, it settled something within Phil and the office didn’t seem quite so empty.

 

For the next four hours, Phil worked his way through the pile of folders that May had brought him and moved onto some of the older mission reports and requisition requests. Phil loved his job when it took him into the field and he had the chance to do some good, but the sheer amount of paperwork and bureaucracy surrounding every action definitely bordered on the ridiculous.

 

It was difficult to ignore the feeling of restlessness that grew stronger the longer he sat still. Phil wasn’t exactly unfamiliar with the sensation, but usually it only happened when he was waiting for news that all of his assets were safe after a mission went FUBAR. It didn’t make any sense, because as far as he could work out, everyone was safe and there wasn’t anything out of the ordinary.

 

Still, he was a professional. He finished his paperwork before he let himself give in to the urge to stretch and move. It was almost five and Agents were starting to pack up and head home for the day as Phil made his way through the office. May wasn’t at her desk, so he left the forms in her in-tray. He had the brief thought that maybe for once he’d leave on time. Phil’s feet had something else in mind, though, and they carried him down towards the range.

 

Clint was on the range when Phil got there, practicing with his bow. Phil stepped into the room quietly, admiring Clint’s accuracy and the arrows already forming patterns in the targets at the far end of the range. The way the archer’s muscles strained slightly was also quite pleasant to look at, if Phil was being completely honest with himself.

 

Unfortunately, he wasn’t the only one who thought so. There was a cluster of agents at the far end of the range. A rifle case nearby suggested that maybe they’d been doing their own practice, but it had been abandoned in favour of watching Clint.

 

“Looking good, Barton,” one of them shouted out and another wolf whistled. Clint smirked, turning to wink at them as he took another shot. The arrow landed perfectly in the target, even though he’d been looking away. He was definitely showing off for the crowd. Phil made his way around the room until he was just behind the group of agents. Clint’s expression gave no indication that he’d seen Phil, but his next shot split one of his arrows in two.

 

“Show off!” someone called, but there was a round of good-natured applause.

 

“Barton can show off for me any time,” a young woman sighed dreamily as she watched Clint draw for his next shot. “Maybe he does private demonstrations.”

 

“I’ve heard his tutoring sessions can get very hands on. It makes failing your firearms qualification worthwhile, if you know what I mean?” another agent said, and the first woman blushed.

 

A low growling noise started, seeming out of place anywhere other than SHIELD’s R&D labs (nothing was ever out of place in R&D, they seemed to thrive on chaos). The cluster of agents didn’t seem to notice, but Clint tensed as he reached for a new arrow.

 

Phil felt like his feet were stuck in place and his body was rigid with a sudden surge of jealousy and rage. The comments were harmless, nothing he hadn’t heard directed at Clint at least a hundred times before. Today though, he didn’t want anyone else admiring the way Clint handled his preferred weapon or even thinking that they might have a shot at winning over the archer. Sheer force of will was the only thing stopping Phil from moving forward and yelling at the other agents, or worse, showing them just who Clint belonged to. Only Clint didn’t belong to him at all, and Phil was starting to get sick of constantly reminding himself that he had no right to claim him. Clint fired another arrow before lowering his bow. He waved off the disappointed looks and the request for just one more shot.

 

“I think it’s about time to call it a day.” The words sounded casual but he gave Phil a pointed look that said he knew exactly how close Phil had been to losing control. The possessive rage faded away only to be replaced with shame and embarrassment. His control was meant to be legendary, but in that moment it seemed harder to maintain his composure than wrangling a herd of cats. So he did the only thing he could think to do. He fled.

 

Phil focussed on walking as swiftly as he could through the building as he made his way back to the relative safety of his office. Once he got there, he leaned against the closed door and made himself take deep breaths until a semblance of calm managed to settle over the rest of his churning emotions.

 

He was supposed to be meeting Clint at his apartment after work. They’d had plans for take out and a couple of reruns of Dog Cops as a small celebration of Phil’s first day back at work. But every loss of control he’d had today, each time he’d felt a shift just beneath the surface, it had been about Clint. He wasn’t sure that he could handle being so close to that edge for even another second.

 

There was a slight flicker of remorse as he reached for his phone and sent a quick message off to Clint, cancelling their plans. He forced himself to read a couple of old mission reports until he felt his usual self-assurance settle around him like a comfortable old sweater. Then he made his way out of the office to see if he could catch Jasper before he left.

 

~~~

 

Phil was very drunk. Very, very drunk. At that moment he couldn’t even find words big enough to describe how drunk he was. He felt slightly ripped off; all of the stories that he’d ever heard about supernatural beings suggested that being cursed with uncontrollable powers and losing your humanity at least had the consolation prize of an increased tolerance to alcohol. It was just Phil’s luck that that part turned out to be the myth.

 

He was slouching in a booth in a relatively classy bar a couple of blocks over from SHIELD HQ. Maria and Jasper were on either side of him and, slightly embarrassing as it was, they were probably the only things keeping him upright. Maria wasn’t a werewolf, but she was a shapeshifter and part of him was drawing comfort from being close to a kindred creature. There were only a handful of empty glasses scattered around the small table, but it’d definitely been enough.

 

Melinda (because she was never Agent May outside of work and she never let her more relaxed side out at work) was off at the bar getting another round of drinks. Jasper and Maria were talking, but Phil wasn’t focused enough to make out the words. Instead he allowed himself to be content just listening to their voices and almost basking in the warmth of being surrounded by friends.

 

“I think that maybe Phil should skip this round,” Melinda said as she placed three drinks on the table and took a seat next to Maria. Phil didn’t think that was particularly fair, and he reached out to try and take the drink in front of Jasper. Jasper, being the annoying asshole that he was, moved it just far enough out of reach that Phil almost fell face first onto the table.

 

“It’s hard to believe this is the same man who almost drank Natasha under the table in Antwerp,” Jasper said as he cracked up laughing. Phil felt a hand ruffling his hair, and he swatted at it in frustration. “Aww, the poor puppy is so drunk.”

 

“I hate you so much,” Phil slurred and tried to glare at the man sitting next to him.

 

“Leave Phil alone.” Maria came to his rescue, pulling Phil back up into a sitting position. “He’s much cuter like this.”

 

“Well he’s definitely more fun this way,” Melinda added, taking a sip of her own drink before placing it down far out of Phil’s reach. Phil resigned himself to pouting until the next round of drinks.

 

“When he took a week off, I thought maybe Barton had manned up and told him, and they’d gone somewhere so that Phil could freak out in peace. I really wasn’t expecting the werewolf thing,” Jasper teased, elbowing Phil in the ribs.

 

“You know as well as I do that if Phil hadn’t stumbled into this mess on his own, Barton was never going to say anything. The man is beyond stubborn and better than anyone at avoiding things he doesn’t want to deal with,” Maria retorted.

 

“Given that he’s a specialist and a level 7 agent with a whole section of forms created almost specifically about him, his avoidance of paperwork is quite a talent,” May added.

 

“Barton smells wonderful,” Phil mumbled, feeling his face heat as he thought about Clint and how just being around him made him feel like he was losing control but at the same time he was somehow finding his place. It was a wonderful sense of calm, trust and affection that was built on the foundations of their working relationship but the change had ignited the feelings into a full-on blaze of emotions, fanned by his ever-present attraction to the archer.

 

“And of course, he’s a sappy drunk. You know no one at work would ever believe this.”

 

“Not sappy,” Phil insisted as he tried to turn his head to glare at them.

 

“Oh really? Why don’t you tell us a bit more about how wonderful Barton is?” Jasper teased, and Maria reached across the table to smack him across the back of his head.

 

“Leave Phil alone.”

 

“Barton is one of the best people I know.” The words were slurred and his tongue felt thick in his mouth, but he valiantly pushed through it. His friends were laughing at him, but maybe if he could just find the right words then they’d understand how amazing Clint was. “He’s loyal and brave, and he always makes me want to smile.”

 

“Okay, Phil, we get it. You like Barton. I’m sure there are many things to like about the man, even if he can be an insubordinate shithead.” He relaxed a little, Maria having reassured him that no one was questioning Clint’s finer qualities. Phil’s thoughts drifted as the conversation moved on to inane sports chatter and the latest Game of Thrones episodes.

 

Instead, Phil wondered what Clint was doing. He felt a small pang of guilt at cancelling their plans, and there was a large part of him that wished he was at Clint’s place watching shitty television. There was no doubt in Phil’s mind that the regret would be worse tomorrow when his hangover kicked in. Phil had never been a coward, but he’d cancelled impulsively out of fear. He didn’t understand what was happening to him, and when he was around Clint his instincts seemed to control his actions without him even noticing the loss of his restraint.

 

Everything would be so much simpler if he hadn’t been bitten. There wouldn’t be this strange upheaval in all of his relationships and he wouldn’t have this persistent sense of fear lingering at the back of his mind that at any moment he could slip and the wolf side would take over. Reaching out an arm, Phil snagged Jasper’s drink and pulled it close to him without the other agent noticing. Hopefully, more alcohol would drown out all of those thoughts because he was sick of the same loop of regret and fear. Nothing would change things, all he could do was adapt. Of course that was easier said than done.

 

Phil made the effort to lift himself off the table, bracing himself against one arm so that he could lift the glass. The alcohol burned on the way down his throat, but he drained the glass just as Jasper realised his drink had been stolen and tried to grab the glass back. Phil grinned wolfishly as the other man let out an indignant “Hey!”

 

“You snooze, you lose,” Phil said, with a small giggle. As he leant back against the booth, his head spun wildly and he had to brace himself against the table with both arms. The disorientation made his senses reach out as well, and he was hit by a sudden overwhelming wave of noise and scents. It made his head spin worse and strangely he hadn’t noticed earlier but the lights in here were so bright it was almost hurting his eyes.

 

A crawling sensation swept underneath his skin, pushing outwards and Phil felt panic slam into him like a sobering bucket of ice to the face. He was gasping as he struggled to breathe and fighting through the previously comforting haze of intoxication to try and regain control.

 

“Oh shit! Phil!” Jasper gasped, and there was a brief flicker of something in his eyes before all the lights in the room suddenly flickered and went out. The removal of the painful light might have even been comforting if it hadn’t been accompanied by a sharp increase in noise as people started to shout and panic.

 

“God damn it, Coulson. You can’t shift here,” Maria whispered insistently. Phil looked at her helplessly, unable to form the words to tell her that he was trying. “Focus on your hands and your fingers. Make a fist, wiggle them around, whatever you have to do to keep them shaped like fingers.”

 

Dutifully, Phil followed her instructions. All of his attention shifted to his hands, tunnelling down until it blocked everything else out. He moved each finger, one at a time, as he kept his breathing steady. It took an enormous amount of effort, as if he was mentally fighting back against a wild animal, but eventually he could no longer feel the shift building beneath his skin.

 

Phil let out an exhausted exhale of relief as he sagged sideways against Maria. He knew that the others were staring at him, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Now that the adrenaline was fading, the haze of alcohol resettled in his mind. Phil really just wanted to go home, be surrounded by the comforting scents of his things and his pack.

 

“That was close,” Jasper said, and the lights in the bar flickered back on again, much to the frazzled bar staff’s relief. He turned towards Phil, obviously about to ask something when he caught sight of Mel’s face.

 

“Leave him alone,” she said, the unspoken _‘or else’_ clear in her tone and hard expression. Jasper took a moment to weigh up his options before wisely deciding to let the topic drop.

 

Something tugged at the edge of Phil’s senses. Unlike the earlier barrage of senses, this new sensation did not spark his body’s urge to shift. Instead, it was almost like a siren call, growing louder and stronger as it got closer and making Phil fidget restlessly in his seat. It wasn’t until it entered the bar that Phil recognised it, or rather, him.

 

Clint strode across the room with a clear purpose and Phil felt his mouth twitch into a smile. Clint did not smile back. Anger was radiating off the man in visible waves of jagged purple spikes. He glared at the entire table, making Phil feel like a complete jerk. He realised that someone must have called Clint while he was trying to control his shift and embarrassment made him duck his head. Maria, however, never took any of Barton’s attitude and was hardly about to start now.

 

“Relax, Barton, he’s fine,” she said calmly. “Just a close call. Nothing that wouldn’t happen to anyone else in his position.”

 

“Most other people in his position wouldn’t have friends dragging him out to get drunk on his first day back at work,” Barton snapped, although Maria’s words did seem to take some of the edge off his anger. Phil could feel Clint’s eyes looking him over, obviously wanting to conduct his own assessment of the situation.

 

Jasper moved to stand, pulling on Phil’s arm and half dragging him out of the booth after him. Phil staggered to his feet; slightly startled to be standing and entirely unprepared for the way the world seemed to be slanted at an unusual angle. A strong arm caught him as he wobbled precariously and the world righted itself again as he was pulled against Clint’s solid form.

 

“Take him home, Barton. It’s past the puppy’s bedtime,” Jasper teased as he disappeared towards the bar. Phil still had enough coordination to flip him off even if Jasper didn’t see it.

 

“Are you ready to go home, Phil?” Clint asked and Phil nodded, wincing slightly at the movement. He waved at Maria and Mel, who seemed rather amused as they waved back, and then Phil tried to take a couple of steps away from Clint towards the door. Which may not have been the smartest idea, because as soon as he let go of Clint, the world tilted dramatically but he stubbornly persisted for a few steps until Clint caught up to him and wrapped an arm around him to keep him steady.

 

“Easy, Phil. I’ll get you home.” The words were soft and fond, and Phil wished he could tell Clint just how much he appreciated him looking out for him, but all of Phil’s attention was suddenly focussed on putting one foot in front of the other as well as ignoring just how wonderful Clint felt pressed up against him. He didn’t really notice as they slid into the back of a car, trusting Clint to keep him safe. Phil fumbled for his seatbelt for a moment until Clint’s hands closed around his and helped him get it latched. Phil found himself blushing, and he turned his head into Clint’s shoulder in an attempt to hide it.

 

“Oh he’s cute,” a strange voice rang through the car. Phil blearily looked at the driver’s seat and saw a young girl looking incredibly amused. The warm purple glow that surrounded her was similar to Clint’s, although Phil thought that Clint’s was a richer and more enticing shade.

 

“Shut it, Katie,” Clint snapped. “I knew I should have taken a cab.”

 

“I’d have met him eventually. There’s been far too much pining already.” The girl, Katie, was laughing as she teased and Phil blushed. He’d only just met her and somehow she already knew what he’d struggled for years to ignore. Was he really that obvious?

 

“You don’t know what you are talking about,” Clint protested and Katie snorted rather indelicately.

 

“Just ‘cause you can’t lie, doesn’t mean you’re not full of shit, Barton,” she said, but apparently she’d made her point, because she turned her attention back to the road. “Your place or his?”

 

“His.” Clint’s arm wrapped around Phil tightly as the car started moving. Warmth seemed to seep through the contact down to the very core of Phil’s being and without thinking he tried to move closer, pressing himself up against Clint with a contented sigh.

 

The short drive home passed in a blur. Phil allowed himself to relax, secure in the knowledge that Clint was there to watch his back and get him home safe. He barely noticed when they arrived, letting Clint help him out of the car and into his building. Something in his brain jolted back into action as he blinked and realised they were standing in front of his locked front door. His hands fumbled for his pockets as he tried to remember just where he’d put them.

 

The sound of jangling metal was a welcome relief, and Phil beamed at Clint as the archer pulled the keys out of Phil’s back pocket. Clint just laughed as he unlocked the door and helped Phil inside. Phil inhaled that deep, comforting aroma of _home_ with a happy sigh.

 

“Let’s get you to bed, Phil,” Clint said, and Phil nodded. Tugging at Clint’s arm, he stumbled towards the bedroom. His bed looked wide and inviting and Phil hesitated only long enough to clumsily toe off his shoes before he flopped down into it, completely content with life. He was home and safe and Clint was here, so everything was perfect.

 

“So, I should get going.” Phil blinked his eyes back open to look up at Clint who was looking incredibly awkward standing next to the bed with Phil’s hand still holding his arm. That wouldn’t do. Two thoughts drifted through Phil’s mind as he stared at the other man. Firstly, that he didn’t want Clint to go, if it was possible he’d want him to stay forever, and secondly, that the archer would be uncomfortable if he stood there all night.

 

Clint gave out a yelp of surprise as Phil suddenly jerked on his arm and pulled him down onto the bed as well. Phil didn’t give him any chance to protest, just wrapped his arms around him and buried his face in the purple glow surrounding Clint.

 

“Stay,” he whispered, ignoring that small remnant of sobriety that sparked to life in that instance just to tell him that this was an absolutely terrible idea. He was sure he’d have enough regrets to deal with in the morning, what was one more.

 

Clint stayed oddly quiet, but he didn’t move away so Phil counted it as a win. He shifted until he was comfortable, and let his eyes drift shut. It’d been a long day, and once the alcohol was factored in, it didn’t take long before he was drifting off to sleep. It might have been a dream, but he thought that he felt Clint’s arms embrace him and the soft brush off lips against his skin.


	4. Chapter 4

**~~~** **Chapter 4 ~~~**

 

“I want a mission,” Phil demanded as he walked into Nick’s office. Other people might have found it insulting that he didn’t open with the usual social niceties, but Phil trusted that Nick would recognise the lack of threats or exposed weapons as his way of asking politely.  

 

“I don’t have a mission that requires your skills,” Nick said calmly without looking up from his desk. Phil knew it was a dismissal and he ignored the fact that it was the exact same wording as the email responses to the half a dozen requests he’d sent in the last week and a half. He’d had enough.

 

“Why did you let me come back in the first place if you were just going to unofficially bench me?” So that was a slight exaggeration, and judging by the unimpressed glare that was levelled at him, Nick knew it. There’d been plenty of times when Phil had been on stand-down at HQ for more than a month. The last two weeks had been different though. He’d struggled to keep his focus on the mundane paperwork that made up the day-to-day work at SHIELD. A desire for action had been steadily building until it was an almost constant urge, only eased by the daily sparring matches that Clint had insisted on.

Fury didn’t reply but he did shove a stack of paperwork forms across his desk for Phil to look over. Intrigued, Phil reached for the papers and was surprised to notice his own name on them, all of them, and they were all dated within the last few weeks. Most of the forms were S54s for reporting concerning or out of character behaviour.

 

“You’re not giving me missions because my behaviour isn’t exactly the same as it was before?” Phil asked indignantly. Admittedly, there had been a couple of close calls where he’d almost lost control completely, and a few new habits had worked their way into his routines, but otherwise he’d thought it’d been business as usual.

 

“If you can’t get your shit together here, how the hell do you think you’ll keep it together in the field?” Nick asked, finally putting aside what he’d been working on to give Phil his whole attention.

 

“This is an intelligence agency. If no one had noticed anything different, you’d be cursing everyone for being unobservant. That stack doesn’t suggest my abilities in the field are impaired. It reflects that you run an agency of paranoid bureaucrats.” Phil’s reasoning was sound, if a little biased, and Nick tilted his head slightly to acknowledge that Phil had a point even if he thought it was a stupid one.

 

“Do you remember when Ramirez had six months off?” Startled by the abrupt subject change, Phil struggled to recall the specific agent, let alone his or her holiday habits. He shrugged. “What about when Jones took two months stress leave? No? That’s the whole fucking idea. You are the only one stubborn enough to insist on coming straight back to work. I could have arranged it so that you were on a classified assignment for as long as it took for you to gain enough control that no one would notice the difference or for the minute details of your mundane habits to have faded a little.”

 

“I can do my job,” Phil insisted, slightly insulted at the insinuation.

 

“It’s not just about your damn job, Phil. This secret is bigger than you or me or Barton. You are risking humanity learning exactly what lurks in their shadows and I for one don’t think they are ready to handle that shit,” Fury snapped and Phil felt the surge of power in the air as Nick’s temper rose. Phil was definitely dancing with fire by provoking him and he wasn’t sure that he liked the feeling, but he couldn’t stand another week buried beneath a mound of Barton’s suddenly completed paperwork. The man had apparently taken this sudden down time as an opportunity to clear some of his backlog, which unfortunately meant the forms wound up in Phil’s backlog waiting for approval.

 

“Give me a mission then. No one around the office will be able to analyse my every move if I’m out in the field and I’ll stop sending you requests every hour. Everyone wins here, boss.”

 

“You’re not going to let this drop, are you?” Nick demanded angrily as he glared at Phil. “I could order you to stand down. Write you up for insubordination and harassment and have your ass court martialled to Siberia.”

 

“You could do that,” Phil agreed amiably, content in the realisation that Nick was just arguing to make his point. He’d give Phil a mission because he knew Phil would be more useful out of the office. Phil might be his friend, but this organization was the love of Nick’s life and there were always more missions than people. If Phil said he was fine, then all the worry and friendship in the world wouldn’t make the Director coddle him into a desk job.

 

“And people think I’m the stubborn asshole,” Nick muttered, but he reached into a drawer and pulled out a dossier. He held it out for Phil to take but jerked it back as Phil reached for it. “No complaints about me easing you back into it and you’re taking Barton as the point of contact with the target.”

 

“Done,” Phil agreed as he took the dossier. Most of the missions that he oversaw involved Clint anyway and the other man was a calming and reliable presence. There was a brief flicker of doubt in the back of his mind, pointing out each and every time he’d almost lost control around other Agents and their interactions with Clint, but that was at SHIELD. In the field, Phil knew that every action could mean mission success, failure, or death, and the weight of those consequences always gave him a sharp, focussed control. There was no reason for that to have changed.

 

“Now get the fuck out of my office. I’ve got work to do,” Nick demanded, but Phil felt his eyes watching him as he walked out of the office. It was the closest thing to worry that Nick would allow himself to show, and even though it was unnecessary, Phil appreciated the concern.

 

Satisfied with his success, Phil headed off to the range to find Barton. They had a mission to plan.

 

~~~

 

The mission itself was a bit of a milk run. A short flight to Vegas to slip a tracker, and if possible a microphone hooked up to SHIELD’s comm system, onto a scumbag. If the scumbag hadn’t been a high level AIM scientist, Phil would have almost been disappointed.

 

Clint didn’t seem to mind that the mission didn’t require his usual skill sets. Mostly, he just seemed as happy as Phil to get away from HQ for a couple of days. The archer tended to get cabin fever if stuck in the same place for too long. It had only taken a couple of hours to get the details banged out into a plan, along with a handful of alternatives just in case and then the pair of them were heading for the airport.

 

Which was how, two days later, Phil found himself sliding into a booth in a small dive bar, several streets away from the main Vegas strip. His whole body was zinging with adrenaline that always accompanied fieldwork and he casually checked the comm in his ear was secure and active. His enhanced hearing could pick up Clint’s breathing on the other side, which was a nice reassurance that would have been really useful on some of their earlier missions.

 

The mark wasn’t due to show for another couple of hours, but Phil was early so that he could scope the establishment and the other clientele for any surprises that might disrupt the mission. It also helped establish his cover, as he ordered himself beer after beer while occasionally shouting at the sport on the television. He’d have been more confident if it had been football or even baseball, but for some reason the bar had decided to show a hockey match instead.

 

The previous week’s bar trip weighed heavily on his mind and he made sure that he didn’t drink his beers too quickly and he spilt most of it underneath the table. Jasper and Maria had teased him mercilessly for a week about just how drunk he’d been and the hangover had left him snapping at everyone who asked him if he was okay. Melinda hadn’t said anything, but he hadn’t expected her to.

 

The real surprise had been Clint. When Phil had woken up the next morning, Clint had been gone. There’d been a glass of water and aspirin by his bed and a pot of still hot coffee in his kitchen when he’d gotten up. But when he’d seen the archer later, he hadn’t said anything about it and Phil had been too embarrassed to bring it up. He’d been relieved that Clint let the incident go and Phil shoved the memories under an increasingly bulging mental rug so he didn’t have to deal with them.

 

“We still have about an hour before the mark gets here, yeah?” Clint asked through the comm line. Unlike Phil, he had to wait until the target, a Mr Jackson Fingle, arrived and took his usual spot at the bar. It was his job to come in and make contact with the mark, hopefully keeping him engaged for long enough to attach the tracker but not long enough to be memorable.

 

“According to intel, but you know the stats on how often that’s wrong,” Phil murmured, trusting that Clint’s own hearing was sharp enough to hear him.

 

“People are unpredictable asshats,” Clint agreed, amiably and Phil chuckled. “Did you see Nat before we left?”

 

Phil hadn’t. Natasha’s mission had been extended past the original end date and she’d arrived back at HQ only hours before they’d had to leave. Phil had been busy trying to organise everything for this mission, tracking down Barton and collecting the necessary supplies. He probably could have made time to track her down and touch base, but Fury’s stack of S54s was still on his mind and if anyone would call him on any odd behaviour, it was Natasha. Besides Nick and Clint, Natasha probably knew him better than any other agent. He’d still pulled up the preliminary report from her mission and double checked that she was okay.

 

“I must have missed her.”

 

“She found me on the range before she headed to medical. Apparently, she only had to threaten Blake with bodily harm twice before he saw sense and took her suggestions on board.”

 

“That’s better than their last mission together. He’s learning.”

 

Clint chuckled, causing a warm burst of pleasure in Phil that he couldn’t even claim was due to the beer in his hand. It had happened far too often in the past weeks for denial to be at all plausible. Phil was certain he wasn’t the only one who’d changed. Clint seemed more open, quicker to laugh and more willing to relax even the fragile pretence of professionalism when it was just him and Phil. And really, that, combined with a sudden flood of perfectly complete paperwork and the newfound habit of bringing Phil lunch, should have made Phil complete his own S54 to send to Nick. Instead it just made it that much harder to tell himself that there needed to be distance between them and he’d found himself struggling with the almost constant source of temptation.

 

“I told her that you got mugged by three guys in an alley. I think she found it amusing once I assured her that you were okay. Something about it being a complete cliché, and you should have known better.” Natasha may have had a point, and Phil felt a small flush of embarrassment.

 

“You enjoyed telling her that, didn’t you?” Phil accused.

 

“She asked how you’d been, and you know I can never lie to her.”

 

“True, but as you’ve just shown, you are perfectly capable of avoiding questions you don’t want to answer.”

 

“Maybe you need to ask questions more directly. You’ve got to ask for the things that you want, Phil.” Clint’s voice was husky, almost flirtatious over the comm., and Phil swallowed. He took an actual sip of his beer, savouring the small burn of alcohol as it moved down his throat.

 

“What I want right now is radio silence, Barton,” Phil said sternly, despite the growing blush. It wasn’t an order, and Phil was fully aware that Clint would ignore the suggestion.

 

“Radio silence is boring,” Clint complained. “Waiting is worse than watching grass grow. At least if I’m doing that, I don’t have to be on constant alert for scumbags and threatening assholes. Talking to you is much more interesting.”

 

“I’ll make a note in my file; More interesting than watching grass grow according to Agent Barton,” Phil said dryly. He did another visual sweep of the room without finding anything out of the ordinary before fixing his attention back on the game.   

 

“Don’t sell yourself short, sir. Interesting is definitely a word I’d use to describe you. I can think of a few others if you’d like?” The hint of flirtation was back in Clint’s voice, pushing at the boundary that Phil had erected around his feelings for the other man.  

 

“I could think of a few to describe you,” Phil replied without answering. Clint let out a small ‘hmm’ of interest so Phil continued; “hot-headed, insubordinate, mischievous.” He made sure he stopped before he added ‘brave’, ‘loyal’, and ‘devastatingly attractive.’

 

“Aww shucks, Phil. Those are some mighty big words. A dumb ex-carnie might mistake your meaning,” Clint drawled in a thick accent that made Phil laugh.      

                                                                                                                       

“Good thing there aren’t any _dumb_ ex-carnie’s around. I’ve heard SHIELD only takes the smartass ex-carnie’s who are too smart for their own good,” Phil deadpanned.    

 

“What can I say? The recruitment officer seemed like a bit of a stiff, I was just trying to get him to crack a smile,” Clint replied, fondly. Phil had been all of 28 and only a level 3 Agent when Nick had sent him out to recruit the legendary Hawkeye. He hadn’t really been prepared for the intelligent, mouthy punk he’d found holding the bow. The speech he’d painstakingly crafted around the benefits of working at SHIELD just sort of went to shit when Clint had bolted and he’d had to crash tackle him in an alley three blocks later.

 

“Well this stiff might just have to go back to watching hockey.” Given that he was meant to be a sports enthusiast, it might not have been the worst idea.

 

“Oh yeah? Are you winning?” Clint asked, and when Phil glanced up to check the score, he realised he’d forgotten which team he was meant to be supporting. Maybe the team in purple? That seemed likely, given Clint had chosen.

 

“Of course. Go team, go. Woohoo,” Phil said flatly and was rewarded with amused laughter from the other side of the comm. It took a moment for Clint to regain his composure, the adrenalin rush from the mission’s imminent start prolonging his mirth.

 

“You don’t even know who’s playing,” Clint accused as he gasped a little for air. “Don’t worry, Phil. Even though hockey’s not your thing, I’m sure I can find ways to entertain you.”

 

“I’m sure you could,” Phil responded before any sort of filter could kick in and stop him. His brain sifted through a range of scenarios that could be counted as entertainment, none of them at all professional or appropriate in the workplace. Which, Phil remembered suddenly, was where they were. “Entertainment will have to wait until after we finish this mission, Barton.”

 

“Is that a promise?” Clint asked in a low husky voice that held none of the teasing and joking of only minutes before. Phil felt like he was on the brink of a cliff and depending on his answer, everything might change. He opened his mouth, still unsure of how to respond but not wanting the silence to drag on, when Clint interrupted him.

 

“Target en route.” The words snapped through the comm. with an air of professionalism that made Phil slouch more and pull his still half full beer closer. There was a brief hint of regret somewhere deep within him at a missed opportunity, but he swiftly buried it as he mentally went over the mission plan.

 

Within a minute, a man Phil recognised as Mr Fingle entered and headed straight for the bar. The man had an obvious slump to his shoulders and a twitchy expression that told Phil he’d either had a rough day at AIM HQ where he practiced his mad scientist routine or he was a paranoid asshole.

 

“Wait ten minutes, Barton. Our friend might be suspicious if you arrive right after him,” Phil relayed, before draining the rest of his beer.

 

“Copy that.”

 

Phil stood, and with an exaggerated stagger, made his way over to the bar a short way away from the target. While he waited to get the bartender’s attention, he extended his senses, making note of how, underneath the reek of alcohol from the bar and the stench of chemicals that lingered on the man’s clothes, the mark’s scent was almost putrid. He knew instinctively that the man had been warped through hatred and anger and fear so intense that it had become apart of him and Phil quickly withdrew his senses.

 

“’nother beer,” Phil slurred when the bartender made it over. The mark glanced at him, but Phil’s eyes were firmly fixed on the hockey game and he made sure he smiled broadly when a player scored. His beer appeared and he handed over more money than it was worth before staggering back to his booth.

 

“Mark’s a little shifty, but doesn’t seem likely to bolt if you take it slowly,” Phil advised.

 

“Got it. On my way,” Clint replied. Phil nodded to himself and took a small sip of his beer, before sloshing it as he put it down again so that half of it spilled onto the booth seat next to him.

 

The sixth sense that Phil had been slowly discovering over the past week told him that Clint was almost at the bar. He’d just shifted slightly to get a better view of both the bar and the entrance, when the door swung open and Phil felt his jaw drop in appreciation.

 

Clint looked hotter than Satan in a sauna. Tight black leather pants and a tank top that showed off all of the muscles in his arms ensured that the agent got more than a few appreciative looks. His face looked younger than usual and his eyes showed a hint of dark eyeliner that made his brilliant blue eyes pop. He’d definitely taken his cover as a Vegas backup dancer seriously.

 

Phil couldn’t force his eyes away as Clint sauntered over to the bar. He stood near the mark but not close enough to encroach on his personal space and Phil could see Fingle eyeing him up and down while Clint ordered and deliberately didn’t make eye contact with the mark. Even from across the room, Phil could see desire on the other man’s face. Phil shuddered at the very thought of someone that vile touching his Clint.

 

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing in a dive like this?” Fingle asked Clint who seemed surprised that he’d initiated contact but quickly adjusted. He made a deliberate show of checking out the mark and smirked lewdly.

 

“Over on the strip, everything’s all glitter and shine. I’m looking for something a bit more…  rugged.” Phil could practically hear the seductive purr in Clint’s voice over the comm and jealousy surged through him.

 

“Barton!” Phil snapped, his voice a barely controlled hiss. “You’re supposed  to be chatting to him, not chatting him up!”                                                                                                                         

 

“If you need help finding what you’re after,  I’m sure I could be of assistance,” Fingle said. Even the man’s voice just oozed sleaze. It raised all of the hackles on the back of Phil’s neck and made him want to cross the room and tear the man’s throat out. Only the mantra of ‘it’s just a mission, keep it together’ looping through his head kept him glued to his seat.

 

“Oh, I’m sure between the two of us, we’ll be able to work something out.” Clint’s fingers were running up the man’s chest in a provocative fashion as he spoke. Briefly he paused to down his drink in one swift gulp, before turning back with a smile. “How ‘bout you buy me another one of these and we get to know each other a bit better.”

 

“Great idea, gorgeous.” Fingle reached for Clint, arm wrapping around the agent’s waist and pulling him so that they were flush together. Wandering hands groped Clint’s ass and all Clint did was laugh and lean down to whisper something that Phil couldn’t hear.

 

Anger was too mild a word for the feelings churning through Phil right now. This was a primal wave of possessive wrath and fury and the small degree of control that Phil held was slipping. The animal instincts and urges that he’d spent weeks suppressing were seeping through the cracks in his composure and he didn’t even realised he had moved until he was stood next to Clint at the bar, growling like a wild animal as he glared at Fingle.

 

“Phil?” Clint asked, surprised. “What are you doing here? I thought you said your brother was in town?”

 

The words didn’t make any sense to Phil, and the bar seemed to be getting noisier. All he knew was that Fingle’s hands were still groping Clint’s ass and he was going to break each and every bone in those fingers. The man let out a startled yelp when Phil’s hand clamped around his wrist and removed it.

 

“Hey. He didn’t say he was taken. Looks to me like he wants someone a bit more fun, if you’re asking me.”

 

“I didn’t ask you,” Phil growled and he felt a deep sense of pleasure when the scumbag caught sight of his fangs growing in and started whimpering in fear. He could feel fur starting to push its way through his skin underneath his jacket and knew that in only moments he’d be able to deal with this man properly.

 

A cold sobering flash of sanity crashed through him as he realised in horror what he was contemplating. But even as he tried, he couldn’t push the changes back. With pleading eyes he turned to look at Clint who stared back at him with a look of concern and disappointment.

 

“Hey! What’s going on over here? No fighting in my bar?” The bartender shouted as he noticed the three of them causing a commotion. Clint’s arms slid around Phil’s shoulders and Fingle’s. The purple glow of Clint’s magick poured through the connection, holding Phil silent and in place even though it felt like his legs were about to collapse beneath him.

 

“Just a small disagreement. Nothing to worry about,” Clint said, cheerfully. Phil could sense power in his words, making it almost impossible to even think of questioning him. “I think I’d better take them outside. Some fresh air might calm them down.”

 

The bartender turned back to his other customers with a disgruntled mumble, and even the other patrons no longer found them remotely interesting. Which was odd, given that Phil could feel his bones starting to crack and shift. The pain was excruciating as he tried to hold back the change and he barely noticed Clint all but carrying him and Fingle outside and into a side alley.

 

Phil collapsed as soon as Clint let him go, the change accelerating now that fae magick was no longer coursing through him. It was only seconds before he found himself on all four paws, searching for his prey. That foul stench was all over his mate and no wolf would let that go unchallenged. Growling, he moved further into the alley until he found Clint holding his already unconscious prey.

 

His second sight was so much clearer now than with his human eyes and he could see the small fluctuations in Clint’s aura and the small tendrils of magick that were wound around the mind of their target. Viciously, he hoped that whatever magick spells Clint was casting would be painful.     

 

The adrenalin of the initial change and the need to protect Clint was fading since he seemed perfectly capable of handling the threat himself. Phil turned to sit so that he could keep watch over the entrance to the alley. He could keep Clint safe this way.

 

Time moved strangely as a wolf. His mind was focussed on watching every tiny twitch of movement, assessing each mouse, car or goblin for any sign of a threat. A couple of satyrs staggered out of the bar at one point and laughed when they saw Phil but made no attempt to enter. He growled at them anyway and was relieved when they moved away.

 

“Damn, I hate doing that,” Clint said when he finally pulled away from Fingle. The man slumped against the wall, unconscious, and Clint staggered away from him. Phil looked up at him, confused at the look of utter exhaustion on Clint’s face. The usually vibrant purple light surrounding him seemed dimmed and Phil whined as he moved closer.

 

“I’m fine, Phil. He won’t remember either of us tomorrow. Just think he had a few too many and passed out in the alley. Nothing memorable or unusual at all.” Clint sat down next to Phil and ran a hand through his fur. “Slipped the tracker on him too, so mission complete.”

 

Phil licked at his hand, the only praise he could offer with his mouth unable to shape human words. Clint’s hands in Phil’s fur tightened, pulling him closer until his body was pressed against a very firm and muscular chest.

 

“You scared me tonight, Phil. I’ve never seen you lose control so completely. The shift really caught you off guard, hey?” Clint murmured quietly and Phil whined in agreement. “We’d better get back to the safe house. Hopefully there aren’t too many people between us and there. I’m not sure I can hold a glamour over both of us.”

 

Phil stayed close to Clint as the man staggered to his feet and back towards the street. The SHIELD safe house was only two blocks from the bar, but it was still a tense walk through the streets. Whatever Clint had done to Fingle had taken its toll on him and with each step the exhaustion seemed heavier and the glow of his magick faded a little more. Phil tried to will some of his own energy towards Clint every time that he brushed against him. Still, he felt relieved when the doors closed behind them and he could nudge Clint over towards the bed.

 

“You don’t need to tell me twice, ” Clint agreed, kicking off his boots. The man all but collapsed onto the bed with a relieved sigh. Phil stalked through the safe house, double-checking all of the windows and doors were secure before making his way back to the bed.

 

“Get up here, Phil,” Clint said, patting the bed next to him. Phil leapt up onto the bed, his body curling against Clint and relaxing when he felt fingers brush through his fur. “I’m exhausted. I haven’t had to glamour that many people in years.”

 

Phil whined sympathetically, trying to wriggle even closer to comfort his pack mate. Clint let out a small huff of laughter, but Phil could hear his breathing evening out into the peaceful rhythm of sleep. Phil wasn’t tired, but he didn’t need to move to keep watch. Instead, he kept his ears pricked for any unusual sounds until, hours later, the steady beat of Clint’s heart lulled him into his own sleep.

 

~~~

 

Phil woke up human, naked, and pressed against Clint. Thankfully, the other man seemed fast asleep. Flushing bright red, he quickly crawled out of the bed and tried to find where he’d left his bag the day before. He’d blown the mission, put Clint in jeopardy and almost killed the mark and possibly half the bar as well. He couldn’t control it at all, and this entire time he’d just been deluding himself into thinking that he could.

 

Phil pulled on a pair of pants and with a groan headed towards the small kitchenette to make some coffee. Caffeine was definitely a small step towards regaining a semblance of normalcy. Once he’d had at least the first cup, maybe his brain would start working enough to plan what he was going to say to Nick.

 

Of course, two cups later he still hadn’t come up with anything even slightly plausible that would convince Nick not to chain him to a desk for the rest of his career. He’d just made himself a third, when Clint came shuffling out of the bedroom.

 

“Morning, Phil,” Clint mumbled, heading for the coffee. He still looked tired, but his aura was once again a vibrant purple. Once he’d made himself a cup, he sat down next to Phil, his shoulders bumping against Phil’s bare skin.

 

“Morning, Clint.”

 

“Good to see you back on your feet, sir,” Clint said after half of his coffee had disappeared. Phil could feel a faint blush spread across the back of his neck and he stiffened.

 

“I appreciated your assistance, Barton,” Phil said politely, in a way that he hoped suggested the conversation was over. Clint frowned, but before he could push the subject, Phil continued. “We’d better get our stuff together, our plane leaves in an hour and a half.”

 

“Yes, sir.” Clint didn’t stop watching him with that odd expression, but he did collect his stuff. The ride to the airport was awkward and Phil may have made sure that there was a problem with their tickets and gotten himself assigned to a different seat half a plane away from Clint.

 

Clint had to know that Phil was avoiding him. The man was one of SHIELD’s best agents and he could read Phil like a book. Phil didn’t want to talk about the mission, though, didn’t want to talk about his failures with Clint. It would be bad enough having that conversation with Nick.

 

“You know that we’re going to talk about this, Phil,” Clint muttered as he reached down to collect their baggage.

 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” The conversation had to stop as someone jostled up against them and the cab ride back to SHIELD HQ was equally silent as Phil determinedly stared at his files and notes. Clint just sighed and pulled his tablet out of his bag.

 

As soon as they entered HQ, a junior agent approached them. The agent looked extremely nervous and almost apologetic when he stopped in front of Phil. “Director Fury insisted that he see you in his office as soon as you got back.”

 

Phil flinched, but he straightened his tie and squared his shoulders. He handed Clint his go bag and strode towards the lift with purpose. Clint followed a step behind him.

 

“Do you want me to come with you?” Clint asked when the lift doors closed behind them. Phil shook his head and Clint pushed a button for the office floors with a small shrug. “I’ll catch you later, Phil.”

 

The corridor up to the director’s office seemed somehow longer and more foreboding than usual. Maybe Nick had redecorated while they were away. Phil tried to manage a friendly greeting to the receptionist as he headed into the office without knocking.

 

Every instinct in him told him to turn around and walk out again. The air in the office was filled with a tense anger and an underlying sense of disappointment. Nick’s glare pinned him to the spot and Phil tried to hide the way his knees were shaking.

 

“What was it you said before you left, Phil? I can do my job, Nick. Send me on a mission, Nick. Everyone wins,” Fury started, making no effort to hide his anger. “Explain to me, Agent Coulson, how this shit storm was doing your job.”

 

“Well, I…” Phil started, but Nick wasn’t finished.

 

“That was rhetorical, agent. This isn’t the goddamn FBI, and this level of incompetence is just unacceptable. If Barton hadn’t been there, I’d have been scraping up what was left of Mr Fingle off a bar room floor and trying to bail you out of the fucking pound.” Phil felt humiliation burning through him as he suffered through his first dressing down in years. If he’d had a tail at that moment, it would have been hanging between his legs.

 

“We met the mission objectives,” Phil managed to get in when Fury paused for a moment.

 

“Barton met the mission requirements. You endangered the mission, yourself and another agent, and the secret lives of hundreds of creatures who actually like the fact that humanity isn’t sticking their goddamn nose into their business. You told me that you had it under control, Phil.”

 

“I did. I was fine until Barton decided to deviate from the mission.” Phil scowled at the thought of Clint flirting with that asshole, letting the man cop a feel. It was enough to make anyone angry.

 

“Agent Barton was improvising according to new mission info, which is definitely within the scope of his duties. Barton tried to avoid telling me just how badly the mission went, but I wasn’t taking any of his bullshit misdirection.”

 

“Sir…” Phil tried, although he knew that any justification he could come up with would just be a hollow excuse. Nick was right, after all.

 

“Two week suspension.” Phil opened his mouth to protest, but the Director wasn’t done yet. “You’re going directly to medical. Simmons is expecting you and if you ever want to get your furry ass back into the field, you’re going to have to convince her.”

 

“Yes sir,” Phil said contritely and the glaring softened just a fraction.

 

“Don’t do it again, Agent. I don’t want to deal with Barton if something happens to you,” Nick said by way of a dismissal as he spun his chair around to stare out his wide windows. Phil wasn’t going to push his luck with a smart comment about melodrama and a potential career in the theatre. Instead, he left quietly and tried to ignore the weight of his mistakes that seemed to be hanging over him. With a long exhale; he made his way down to medical.

 

~~~

 

When he’d been human, he’d always hated the chemical stench of the medical department and his reputation was almost as bad as Clint’s for checking himself out earlier than his doctors would recommend. Now with his heightened senses, the smell was offensive and underneath the powerful chemicals he could almost taste the pain and sickness and death. It was all he could do not to whimper and head for the door.

 

“You look like shit, Coulson.”

 

He turned sharply to see Natasha leaning against the wall near the door, very effectively cutting him off from his escape route. He felt his eyebrow twitch and he forced himself to breathe, reminding himself that there was at least another half a dozen exits out of the medical wing if needed and really, Natasha wasn’t actually going to stop him if he needed to go. The instinctual panic was entirely unnecessary and more than a little frustrating.

 

Phil looked over Natasha with a wry smile. Clint had said she was human, but it still surprised him that there wasn’t that same sense of power or the odd extra limb or slightly altered appearance that he’d grown used to. Before all of this, if he’d had to guess which Agent was least likely to be entirely human, he’d have said the Black Widow. Her infiltration skills bordered on unnerving and she could loosen the most stubborn tongues without laying a finger on her poor victims.

 

Right now, she was staring at him with that slightly quirked eyebrow that invited him to spill his secrets. Apparently he’d been silent too long. Of course, Phil hadn’t made it to be a senior Agent without building up some skills of his own and he ignored her unspoken question.

 

“Good to see you back. How was your mission?” Phil asked instead and while her eyes narrowed at the deflection, she didn’t call him on it.

 

“Long and tedious. It’s almost insulting how easily mobsters are willing to trust a pretty face and a flirtatious laugh. All I had to do was bat my eyes and twirl my hair and their secrets spilled out faster than Blake could write.” She pouted slightly and it made Phil’s lips twitch into a grin.

 

“I almost feel bad for them. They never stood a chance,” Phil sympathised. Knowing Natasha, her marks would have thought she was a gorgeous prize to be won right up until she killed them. Her answering smirk was almost predatory.

 

“Enough boring mission talk. I want to know how Agent Phil Coulson, senior handler and the one man alive who can tolerate Clint’s insubordination and absolutely awful jokes, managed to get himself mugged.”

 

Phil blushed in embarrassment, avoiding her eyes as he tried to figure out exactly what he could tell her without lying, because Natasha knew every one of his tells. “It was a dark alley and I didn’t have enough time to perform a thorough perimeter check.”

 

“Aren’t you the man who took down two armed robbers with a bag of flour?” She teased and Phil cursed Jasper again for digging up that particular footage and ensuring that every single SHIELD Agent got emailed a copy.

 

“There were three of them,” he said dryly, but it was a weak excuse. Phil had fought greater numbers with less, but those had been just regular, human scumbags. Supernatural scumbags were a different story, but he couldn’t exactly tell Natasha that.

 

“There you are, sir, ” a voice rang out through the medical bay, interrupting Natasha and Phil’s conversation. Dr Jemma Simmons was walking across the room towards them and Phil noticed that she seemed unusually pale, although it didn’t seem to be slowing her down or putting a dent in her bubbly attitude. “The director insisted that I check you out before you went home today, so we really should get started.”

 

“See you later, Coulson,” Natasha said with a warm, comforting smile. He nodded in acknowledgement before she headed out of the medical bay. Phil turned back to Simmons with a sigh.

 

“Let’s get this over with.”

 

“Don’t worry, sir. I’ll have you out of here in no time. If you’d just like to follow me?” Simmons led the way past at least a dozen empty beds until they came to a locked door that Phil hadn’t ever noticed before. The keypad was obviously linked to Simmons’ biometrics and it slid open to reveal a second ward. There was a strong hint of magick throughout and Phil spotted another agent on a bed watching some sort of soap opera on a small television mounted on the wall. She wouldn’t have looked at all out of place in any hospital if not for the red horns curling out of her hair and the sharp, pointed tail that was holding onto the remote. Phil had to force himself not to stare. Thankfully, Simmons led him to an isolated quarantine room, completely out of sight from the rest of medical.

 

The quarantine room had a bed, a small desk and very little else, but somehow the scent of chemicals seemed fainter here and Phil’s shoulders relaxed slightly in relief. He settled himself on the bed while Simmons went to the desk and withdrew a stethoscope, notebook and a pen.

 

“First things first. You were bitten a month ago, correct?” Simmons asked, crowding into his space so that she could slip the stethoscope under his shirt to rest against bare skin. Up close, her eyes looked a frightening shade of red and when she smiled cheerily, Phil could see the sharp fangs. Her fingers brushed against his skin and he flinched at the almost icy touch. His heart rate sped up with a sudden spike of fear. Jemma noticed and rolled her eyes. “Don’t be silly, I’m not going to bite you, sir.”

 

“I appreciate that,” Phil said wryly, feeling a little bit awkward at his reaction. Simmons just patted his arm and continued checking him over. It took Phil a minute to realise he hadn’t answered her question. “Yes, a month ago.”

 

“Very good,” she said, giving him a warm smile. “Now how many full shifts have you managed since then?”

 

“Should I count the first night?” Simmons paused what she was doing and watched him carefully as she shook her head. “Just once then. I’ve had a couple of close calls, but I’ve managed to hold it back.”

 

“You’ve managed to hold it back?” Simmons repeated with a strange, unreadable expression on her face.

 

“Yes. It’s been tricky, but except for last night, I’ve been able to stay human.” Phil started to feel an uneasy sense that something wasn’t right. Within him, he could feel the wolf stirring as if it knew that they were talking about it.

 

“Oh, Coulson,” Jemma murmured quietly as she put down her instruments. “Have you spoken to any other werewolves?”

 

“No. Barton loaned me a couple of books on the subject.” Phil had read all about how he’d be forced to shift into a savage wolf every full moon and the increased animalistic instincts. The almost constant yearning for his pack was something he’d learnt to live with, as was the occasional urge to hunt or protect Clint from threats he was perfectly capable of handling himself.

 

“I’m not the right person to explain this to you. I’d do it all wrong.” Simmons fretted, wringing her hands together. “I’m a biologist. I can tell you all about your physiology, but given your age, your body has adapted to the bite remarkably well. But I can’t sign you off without ensuring that you won’t be an exposure risk in the future.”

 

“Simmons, I don’t have all day,” Phil said in frustration.

 

“Right. I need you to wait here for a minute. I’ll be back soon,” she muttered before bustling out of the room like a vampiric whirlwind. Phil sighed and leaned back on the bed. In his head, he tried to calculate just how long it would take him to leave HQ and get home.

 

When Simmons came back, she wasn’t alone. Behind her was Leo Fitz, an engineer from R&D and Simmon’s usual partner in crime. The stories from the science academy bordered on legendary. As Fitz moved closer, Phil realised why Simmons had thought he would be able to help. Phil’s inner wolf wanted to howl as he recognised another werewolf.

 

“How are you doing, sir?” The man said by way of greeting, moving closer and looking Phil over. “Jemma said you’ve been struggling with some of the changes.”

 

“I shifted in the middle of a mission last night.” Phil forced the admission out. If anyone could help him prevent it from happening again, it would be Fitz and Phil wasn’t going to miss the opportunity.

 

“Ah. I can see how that might have been a problem,” Fitz said, eyes wide. “A month is a short time to try and get the hang of changing. I remember the first month after I got bitten. I spent the first two weeks hiding in my room as my body got used to shifting between the two shapes. The pain had me screaming until my voice was hoarse. Jemma had to keep erasing the memories of the cops that came to handle the noise complaints.”

 

“It wasn’t that bad,” Jemma insisted. “Really, I found the whole transformation quite fascinating. I’d never been that close to a new werewolf before and when you were passed out, it gave me plenty of opportunities to collect samples for testing.”

 

Fitz shot her a wounded look. No one liked being a guinea pig for research, even if the scientist was his best friend. “The thing is though, if I hadn’t gone through those shifts then I wouldn’t have learnt control. The wolf gets stronger as the moon waxes. Has it been harder to maintain control over the last few days?”

 

In the lead up to the mission there had seemed to be more incidents and Phil hadn’t really understood why. He’d barely held it together during the flight out to Vegas with Clint’s shoulder continuously bumping against him from the seat next to him. Even when he’d gone to get Clint from the range, he’d growled at someone who’d tried to talk to Clint while Phil was still briefing him on the mission details. Phil could see the pattern emerging and he frowned.

 

“What do I need to do to manage this?”

 

“That’s the thing, sir. It’s not so much managing as it is adjusting,” Simmons said cheerfully although she still had a slightly concerned expression, as if she wasn’t sure what Phil might do.

 

“The wolf isn’t a separate part of you. It’s not even really a wolf. It’s more of a …” Fitz trailed off, making a vague gesture with one hand as he tried to think of the word.    

 

“A parasite!” Simmons added helpfully and Fitz scowled at her, but didn’t disagree.

 

“That’s a terrible metaphor, but I can make it work. Your two forms are symbiotic; they rely on a balance of energy,” Fitz explained.

 

“That’s what gives you your enhanced senses. It’s the excess energy being channelled in order to protect your human form so that the parasite can survive as well.” Simmons was disturbingly cheerful and Phil wondered how the biochemist had wound up performing actual medical check-ups.

 

“If it’s a parasite, does that mean you can cure it?” Phil asked, although he wasn’t overly optimistic. Nick might be a secretive chess master but he wouldn’t have hidden a cure from Phil.

 

“Well, no. Maybe parasite wasn’t the best metaphor.” Simmons looked apologetic. She picked up some of her medical supplies and moved across the room.

 

“There is no cure. The wolf energy fuses to your own life force and they can’t be separated.” Fitz paused for a moment and Phil gestured for him to continue. “Right, so werewolves have to maintain the energy balance between the wolf and the human. When you fight against the change or stay too long in one form, it disrupts the balance.”

 

“Are you suggesting I give in and shift into a wolf in the middle of SHIELD? I’m sure the Director would appreciate me hunting down his junior agents just because they looked at me wrong.”

 

“That might not be the best idea. There are definitely times when becoming a wolf is likely to cause a lot of problems,” Fitz said hurriedly. “But you need to shift more often than once a month.”

 

“What do you suggest I do?”

 

“Tonight’s a full moon, sir. Try not to fight the shift. Accept that it’s part of you, and it’ll make it easier to maintain your control when you need it.”

 

That would be easier said than done, but it was probably the best advice that he was going to get. He got up off the bed and nodded his appreciation at Simmons. “Thank you for your recommendations. I’ll take them under advisement.”

 

“Take care, sir,” Simmons said. “We’re always happy to help if you need anything.”

“I appreciate that, agents,” Phil acknowledged as he headed out of the isolated medical ward. He had every intention of calling it an early day. The threat of shifting on a crowded subway was enough that Phil planned on grabbing his post-mission paperwork and heading home. Only once he reached his office, he found Clint waiting for him.

 

Judging by the look on Clint’s face, the archer wasn’t there to invite him over for post mission beer and Phil was probably going to be stuck here a while longer. In fact, he was fairly sure that Clint was going to force the discussion he’d been avoiding all day.

 

“Anything I can help you with, Agent Barton?” Phil asked, because there was a very slight chance that he was wrong. Clint’s frown deepened and there was a brief flash of hurt in his eyes before it was replaced with hard professionalism.

 

“I’m here for my post-mission debrief, sir. I had some serious concerns that I wanted to go over with you.”

 

“Can this wait, Barton? I was hoping to head home early.” Phil didn’t have to fake the exhaustion in his voice and Clint’s eyes softened slightly but he didn’t make a move to leave.

 

“I’m sorry, Phil, but it really can’t. I need to know what happened.”

 

Phil felt an irrational surge of anger towards Clint. Even though Fitz had told him that the shift was harder to control around the full moon, he’d been mostly managing fine until Clint appeared. Even now his instincts seemed sharper and his mind was vividly imagining pouncing on Clint and biting at his skin to mark his territory. That way everyone else would know that Clint was his.

 

Phil moved across the room, forcing himself to avoid brushing against Clint or inhaling scent. His chair felt almost like armour as he settled into it, a protective layer of professionalism hiding the emotions that feel almost raw and flayed. Fitz’s warnings about balance was at the forefront of his mind and each second Clint stood there made it feel like the balance was tipping further away from him.

 

“Officially, the mission was successful. There was a minor change in plans due to the incapacitation of the senior agent due to unforeseen medical complications, but Agent Barton recovered admirably and was able to fulfil all mission objectives. There’s a commendation going in your file.”

 

“And unofficially? What caused the shift? I didn’t think Fury would give you a mission unless he was convinced that you had it under control.” Clint was frowning. Phil could tell that he was frustrated by Phil’s responses but it was all that he was going to get. Phil wasn’t exactly going to admit that he couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else touching Clint.

 

“An unforeseen medical condition. I’m benched until medical clears me,” Phil snapped tersely. Clint’s brow furrowed deeper and he moved closer, placing his hands on Phil’s desk and leaning closer.

 

“Don’t lie to me, Phil.” Those blue eyes bored into him, making him feel as if Clint could see into his very soul. It made him want to squirm in his seat, but all he did was straighten his shoulders.

 

“The shift was an involuntary response to unexpected circumstances. Drop it, Clint.” Phil stared him down, wishing he felt half as confident as his forced professionalism implied.

 

“If you can’t control it, we can work on it together. I can come round tonight and help you through the full moon?” Clint offered. “Just don’t lie to me and say that everything’s fine when it’s not.”

 

A large part of Phil wanted to give in, to let Clint in and try and figure out this mess that he seemed to have created for himself. But the anger and the fear was still there, and he resented the idea that he was a pet project for Clint to try and fix, even if there was some truth behind it.

 

“I don’t think so, Barton,” he growled, baring his teeth at the other man. Clint’s face crumpled slightly before Phil saw the anger flare to light in his eyes.

 

“What is wrong with you, Phil? The mission goes to shit, and suddenly you’re acting like a dick. Just because you blame yourself…”

 

“I don’t blame myself, ” Phil interrupted, and Clint blinked at him, clearly confused. “I blame you.”

 

“What?”

 

“It’s your fault. Every time you’re around, you crack any of the control that I have managed to scrape together,” Phil hissed angrily and Clint flinched back as if Phil had actually struck him.

 

“Is that what you think? Is that really what you think of me?” Clint scowled. “I hate to tell you, Phil, but I’m not the one to blame for your lack of control.”

 

“You make it worse!” Phil’s voice rose angrily and he felt the faint beginning of the shift. Magick flared around Clint, fanning out around him like a shield as he glared at Phil.

 

“What do you want from me, Phil? Do you want an apology? Do you want me to say sorry for trying to help you adjust? Because I can’t do that.”

 

“I want my life to make sense again! I want to go home and try to make sense of all of this.” Some of the anger he’d felt was slipping away, replaced with guilt and self-loathing.

 

“Let’s go then. Shouting at each other isn’t going to solve anything.” Clint said, sounding exasperated by the whole situation. Phil shook his head.

.

“No. I need to be by myself,” he insisted, staring down Clint’s concerned expression and unspoken protests.

 

“If that’s what you want, Phil, I won’t come with you,” Clint said after a minute when it became obvious that he wasn’t going to change his mind.

 

“And you won’t come around later or just happen to swing by. I swear, Clint, I can’t do this tonight. If you don’t promise me that you won’t be anywhere near my apartment for the next 24 hours, I will march you down to security and get you placed on the night shift for the next month, starting tonight.”

 

Clint glared at him, but Phil had been Clint’s handler for years and he’d dealt with the man’s disapproval on more than one occasion. He smiled blandly, and waited for Clint to back down. “I promise.”

 

“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow, Clint.” Phil stood, collecting his briefcase without bothering with any of the reports. When Clint reached out to grab his arm, Phil let him, feeling the warm magick reaching out towards him. Instinctively he wanted to stay, but he could also feel his own energy radiating through the arm and threatening to cause him to transform.

 

“Stay safe, Phil,” Clint said finally as he let go. There was a lingering sensation as if Clint’s magick was mixing with his own energy, but it faded after a moment and as Phil stepped out of his office, he felt entirely human.

 

Guilty, and a little bit like he’d ruined everything, but definitely human.

 

~~~

 

Phil knew the very moment when the moon finally rose for the evening. Even before the silvery light hit his window, he could feel the change bubbling through his skin. Gritting his teeth, he struggled to control his breathing and force his body to stop the shift. Only, unlike the other times when he’d come close to losing control, this shift was not being held back. As he struggled to maintain his shape, the wolf inside of him pushed back. Hard. It was like a build up of pressure inside his entire body and sooner or later he’d burst.

 

Phil let out a scream as the mental strain became too much and his limbs contorted into their new shapes. The sound of his scream twisted as his vocal cords transformed and a chilling howl took its place.

 

Frustration, anger and disappointment flowed through him as he paced the tiny apartment space. There wasn’t space to run, there were nothing to hunt other than the faint trace of mice lingering in the walls. Worst of all, his mate wasn’t here. He had no pack and just the faint trace of his scent to remind him of what was missing, and it was all Phil’s fault.

 

Growling, he took out his frustrations on the couch where his human smell was strongest. He tore at the cushions and scratched at the armrest with a sense of smug satisfaction. After it had been well and truly destroyed he turned his attention on the other furniture. It wasn’t hunting, but it soothed the worst of the anger, leaving only misery and self-loathing.

 

He howled morosely, the sound echoing around the tiny space and making it sound like there was a whole pack and not just a single wolf. The loneliness was almost insurmountable. He curled up on the space where his mate’s scent was strongest and waited.

 

He almost missed the unfamiliar trace of magick moving closer to his apartment, but the raised voices outside his door were enough to get his ears pricked to attention.

 

“Nothing to worry about, ma’am. Just had a complaint about a noisy animal, and we’re here to check it out.” The voice oozed magick, and while he couldn’t quite place it, he knew he’d heard it before.

 

His door handle jiggled and he was on his feet within seconds. Moments later when the door opened, Phil was stood in the middle of his mostly destroyed apartment, growling and baring his teeth at those who dared enter his territory.

 

He didn’t expect to recognise the man entering his apartment. The thug who stood in the doorway, with his fang-like teeth and the thick fur-like hair all over his body, was the same asshole that had bitten him in the first place. Phil snarled, leaping forward to snap at the man’s legs. Only to receive a backhanded smack that sent his entire body flying across the room and into a wall.

 

He staggered to his feet, growling, but he took his time to properly assess the threat rather than diving back into the fight. He circled the doorway warily, taking in the other werewolf’s own predatory grin. This man was clearly far more in tune with his wolf side and Phil knew that he’d struggle to win this fight, but he couldn’t bring himself to run.

 

“Easy pup. Come quietly and I won’t have to hurt you.” The man’s voice was rough and gravelly and it set Phil’s teeth on edge. Phil just growled again and tried once more to leap at the man, hoping to surprise him. Instead, the man caught hold of him, twisting them both until Phil felt those sharp teeth clamp down on the back of his neck. Phil wanted to struggle, but his whole body went limp in forced submission. He was still growling when he felt the stinging prick of a needle and then whatever fast acting drug was in the syringe made the world dim and fade to black.


	5. Chapter 5

**~~~ Chapter 5 ~~~**

 

As conscious awareness returned, Phil realized that at some point he’d transformed back into his human form. Unlike Clint, his current hosts hadn’t bothered to give him clothes or anything to cover himself with, although they had thoughtfully accessorized his wrists with some heavy iron cuffs shackling him to the wall. An inhuman rage curled through him as his arms jerked violently against the chains when he tried to pull free. For a moment, all he knew was that urgent, animalistic need to be free and he kept struggling until his wrists were slick with blood but he was still no closer to freedom than when he started.

 

When the futility of the situation started to sink in, Phil let himself sag against his bonds in apparent exhaustion. The wolfish temper tantrum had ruined any chance he had of pretending he was no threat which was more than a little irritating, but if he let his full weight hang from the chains then perhaps his captors might underestimate how much strength he had left.

  
Slowly, he glanced around his cell trying not to make too many sudden movements in case someone was watching. The cuffs and chains were old and rusty and looked like something out of a medieval dungeon, but they were completely out of place with the rest of the room’s aesthetics. The only other thing his ‘cell’ had in common with any of the others he’d been locked in was the absence of natural light. Instead, the dim glow from a pair of wall lamps illuminated a set of silk drapes concealing the only exit in the room and a pile of ridiculously soft looking floor cushions. Even the carpet underneath his toes, now that he was noticing it, was incredibly plush. There was nothing within easy reach and he couldn’t see anything that could be readily used as a weapon even if he could miraculously pull himself loose.

 

A scantily clad woman appeared through the drapes, smiling in a way that showed off her sharp, pointed teeth. She sashayed across the room towards him, each movement slow and seductive. Phil watched her carefully, sensing that underestimating her would possibly be the last mistake he ever made.

 

“I’m Phil Coulson with the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division. If you release me right now, I will assist in minimising the consequences of holding a government agent against his will.” Phil said steadily. It was standard protocol, even though in the two dozen times he’d uttered that speech, no one had done anything but laugh and hit him harder.

 

“What do I care about SHIELD?” the woman asked as she raised a hand and dragged her fingers down his face. “My king has given me a puppy to toy with.”

 

Phil bristled at the description and turning his head to bite at her fingers which only caused her to giggle and flick his nose. Phil glared at her. “I am an agent of SHIELD. I am not anyone’s to give.”

 

“Don’t you want to play, Agent? I can make it so good that you forget that you ever wanted anyone else,” she asked playfully. A thick scent of artificial pheromones filled the air and Phil shook his head to clear it.

 

“I’m really not a bondage kind of guy,” he said apologetically with a small half shrug. She scowled at him, obviously not appreciating Phil’s sense of humour.

 

“I can be anything you want me to be. Don’t you want me?” She pouted as she rubbed herself against the side of his body, letting him feel the press of her breasts against his arm and the kiss of her lips against his cheek.

 

“I’m sure you’re very lovely,” Phil conceded pleasantly. “But I can’t really overlook your decorating taste. Dungeon chic really is a deal breaker for me.”

 

“Maybe you want something that you can’t have?” Clearly determined, she licked the side of his face as if she wanted to taste him. Phil really hoped that he wasn’t going to end up on the dinner menu.

 

“Let me give you what you want,” she said, but it wasn’t her voice anymore. It had been altered, so it was deeper and achingly familiar. He turned his head in surprise to find himself staring into Clint’s deep blue eyes and he blinked as he tried to reign in his emotions.

 

The breasts that had been pushed against him were gone, replaced by solid muscle. Hands reached out and touched his chest, and Phil could feel the familiar calluses, formed from too many long hours shooting a bow. But the scent was all wrong and the magick wasn’t that familiar comforting present that made his whole body relax, and he knew that even though she’d stolen his face, she could never mimic all of the other little things that made Clint so important to Phil.

 

He’d spent years denying his physical attraction to the man; he could do it now with a pathetic imitation. He smiled pleasantly at the creature. “You can’t give me what I want, and I’d really rather you stopped trying.”

 

She hissed at him, all trace of Clint suddenly gone, and her claw-like fingernails raked down his chest leaving a trail of bloody red scratches. With a huff, she stormed back out of the room, leaving Phil alone for a moment.  

 

“You really disappointed Cherie, you know?” It was a familiar voice, and Phil wasn’t surprised when he recognised the man stepping through the curtains as the man who’d been in charge in the alley a month ago. The man shook his head. “I told her that I didn’t think you’d crack but succubi can never really believe their appeal doesn’t work on everyone. They don’t deal well with rejection.”

 

“What do you want with me?” Phil demanded, not letting himself be drawn into a conversation about ‘Cherie’. The man didn’t seem at all concerned by Phil’s anger.

 

“I want you to be an agent of chaos. After seeing the state of your apartment, I’m sure you will perform admirably.”

 

“As in the fictional agency from that old Get Smart series?” Phil asked, and the man cracked an amused smile.

 

“A whole month spent chasing my little brother around and he never even mentioned the two courts?” That was the second time that he’d mentioned a brother. Phil had almost forgotten the first time, amidst the confusion of being told that he was a damn werewolf. But now, he took the time to look closer at the man. There were similarities in the jaw line and those pointed ears, even though the dark green glow surrounding this man reminded him more of a toxic poison than Clint’s enticing aura.

 

“Clint’s your brother?” Phil asked, incredulously. Similarity in appearance aside, he couldn’t imagine his loyal, brave and honest Clint, being brought up alongside a man that thought it was alright to harass unarmed women in alleys or kidnap government agents from their own homes.

 

“I should have introduced myself earlier, that was rather rude of me. Barney Barton.” He held out a hand for a handshake and just laughed when Phil raised an eyebrow and tilted his head towards where his wrists were still chained together above his head. “Don’t worry, I know all about you, Phillip James Coulson.”

 

“I’d offer to shake your hand but I find myself a bit tied up at the moment.” Phil jerked his hands so that the chain jangled noisily. “If you’d be so kind as to let me out….”

 

Barney laughed. “You’re a funny one, I’ll give you that. I can’t understand why Clint hasn’t made a move yet. Imagine my surprise when I was told that a whole month after the transition and you still weren’t claimed by the light court.”

 

“I don’t know anything about any courts,” Phil said flatly, although he was trying to remember any time Clint had ever mentioned a ‘court’. He shouldn’t let it annoy him, because that was what Barney wanted, but it was definitely concerning that he’d obviously been working with missing intel.

 

“The fae, and those who decide to associate with us, are divided into two courts: light and dark. The light focuses on order and the dark, well, we deal with chaos.” Barney explained cheerfully. “When Clint and I were kids, our parents ruled the courts. Our father was a jerk, and the dark court ran rampant over the light for the entire duration of their marriage.”    

 

“The whole ‘I’m a victim of my troubled childhood’ routine is a bit of a cliché, don’t you think?” Phil asked with dry amusement. Barney laughed and punched him in the arm.

 

“I never said I was a victim,” Barney’s mouth twisted up into a sinister smirk that made Phil twist backwards as far as he could. There was pure evil behind that smirk, and even though he wouldn’t show it, a hint of fear sank like a stone into his stomach. “Little brother has been known to play that card on occasion, but I’ve never claimed to be anything other than what I am.”

 

“A two-bit thug with delusions of grandeur?”

 

“Now, I wouldn’t expect a pup like you to recognise greatness. When dear old Dad decided that he’d take out mum and got the surprise of his life when she took him with her, there was a bit of a power void,” Barney explained. “You are in the presence of the king of the dark court.”

 

“Is that supposed to be impressive?” Barney seemed amused by Phil’s attempts to rile him up and Phil would have to rethink his strategy. Barney wouldn’t be provoked into making a mistake.

 

“I’ll have to make sure when you’re ready that my court gives you their most impressive welcome,” Barney promised, and his fingers traced where the succubus’ fingernails had scratched Phil’s bare skin. “I’m sure Cherie will be very happy to see you again.”

 

“As fun as that sounds, I think I’ll have to decline.” Phil had to hope that Clint or SHIELD would find him before Barney considered him ‘ready’.

 

“Unfortunately for you, it’s not optional. Little brother didn’t claim you for his court, so you’re fair game. Werewolves are always such fun once I manage to rid them of their delusions of humanity.” Barney laughed again, deep and filled with malice.

 

“I’m rather attached to my humanity.” Phil smiled blandly. There were many things about this situation that were so far beyond his scope of understanding, but dealing with threats and violence were incredibly familiar. He’d heard it far too many times before for it to cause any real fear.

 

“I’m sure you are. It’ll make it that much sweeter when I make you snap.” Barney’s sinister smile widened, no doubt imagining all the cruel ways that he could use to make Phil crack.

 

“You would hardly be the first to try,” Phil informed him, and Barney clapped a hand on Phil’s shoulder.

 

“Oh I’m sure I could have you tortured. String you up down here and beat you until you scream or have a vampire drain you until you’re clinging to life with bloodied claws. There is no end to the torment I could inflict before your protective instincts kick in and you have no choice but to shift,“ Barney mused, more to himself than to Phil. “But I think you’ve been tortured more than a few times, and it would take a very long time to make you break.”

 

“I’ve never found torture to be overly effective,” Phil agreed dryly. He had been tortured more times than he could count, and while he didn’t really want to go through it again, he could do what he needed to and endure it if he had to.

 

“Well I’m all for efficiency. Gets all of this unpleasant business out of the way faster and then we can get back to the fun stuff.” Barney smirked unpleasantly at Phil, and Phil felt a slight flicker of worry at what was in store for him. “Thankfully, I’ve got a better option than just torturing you.”

 

“Phil, I’d like you to meet Wanda.” Barney held open the door and in came a delicate-looking redhead whose power crackled visibly at the end of her fingertips. “She has a very unique talent. I’m almost certain that she’ll be able to get you into your true form.”

 

Phil didn’t say anything, and at a nod from Barney, the girl walked closer to him. The chains didn’t let him move back and she all but invaded his personal space, a strange expression on her face as she looked at him.

 

Wanda’s fingertips brush against his forehead and he felt the first light tendrils of her magick touch at his mind. He tried to jerk away but the girl had a very firm grip. The first images that he saw didn’t make sense at first. Two young children that he didn’t recognise were playing together. It wasn’t until red sparks flashed from the girl’s fingers that he realised that this must have been a younger Wanda. The boy’s hair was so blonde it looked almost white as he raced around a field at impossible speed. The memory shifted and he recognised Barney as he ordered Wanda to be held separately while her brother, Pietro, was taken away from her. There was fear and loneliness and the knowledge that Wanda would do whatever she could to see her brother again.

 

Phil realised that the images were an apology, and he smiled softly at her as he nodded, accepting what she was about to do.

 

The new flood of images weren’t peaceful.

 

A scream tore through his lungs but he could barely hear it, only feeling the vibrations in his throat. He could see himself losing all control and becoming a mindless animal. He was running through the corridors of SHIELD, tearing through any agents that he came across. Blood spurted everywhere and he could feel that the animal was enjoying every moment. It absolutely disgusted him.

 

He watched in horror as his claws sank into Maria and his teeth ripped through Melinda’s throat. The agents struggled to fight back, reaching for their weapons as he hunted them down like prey.

 

He felt the strange sensation of the shift starting, the wolf struggling to take control and protect them from the images that were causing them both pain. It was a stark reminder that the images weren’t real. He wasn’t at SHIELD and he wasn’t going to let Barney force him to change. Slowly Phil inhaled deeply, struggling to ignore the sight of Jasper appearing before him.

 

The gunshot was loud enough that it made him yelp and even though it wasn’t real, there was a sharp pain in his shoulder and the illusion collapsed onto a SHIELD floor. The scene shifted and he found himself muzzled and locked in a small cage. There were people out the front of his cage, a sneering sea of faces and they prodded him through the bars with electric cattle prods that made him yelp and whine, flinching away. He lay flat on his belly, raising his paws to cover his eyes and reminding himself over and over that this was just an illusion. None of it was real.

 

“But it will be.” Phil opened his eyes. Despite the hard coldness, there was no mistaking Clint’s voice. The archer stood in front of the cage, a prod in hand, looking at Phil with utter contempt. “You’re nothing but a mindless animal, Coulson, good for nothing more than hunting and slaughtering. Why would anyone want you?”

 

Phil shook his head, whimpering pitifully as each word hit like a knife to his guts. The shift rippled deeper through him and he could feel his hands start to contort and his bones start to break. Somewhere in the background he could hear Barney laughing and it strengthened his resolve. He focussed on Clint’s blue eyes, and fought back against the change, forcing his body to remain human for as long as he could manage.

 

The illusion shifted again, flashes of memory and nightmare coming and going quickly, as if Wanda was sorting through them for a better trigger. When the images settled again, Phil was back in the Vegas bar. He could see Clint across the bar being groped by a dozen faceless scumbags. One of them punched Clint in the stomach so hard that it had him doubling over and gasping for air. Another drove his knee into Clint’s face, breaking his nose from the echoing crack. Clint looked up, directly at Phil.

 

“Help me.”

 

Phil growled, loud and fierce while his bones cracked and shifted. He howled angrily, jerking forward to try and help Clint but his arms were still bound by chains. He forced the change faster until his paws were able to slip out of the manacles that were designed for human hands and he fell to land on all fours. Unseen hands grabbed at him and he could feel a leather strap being wrapped around his neck. He shook his head and snapped at the air, trying to free himself so that he could get to Clint.

 

There was a faint click as a clasp closed, drawing the leather tight around his neck, and then Clint and the bar disappeared. Instead, Phil was staring up at Wanda and a very smug looking Barney Barton. Phil bared his teeth and tried to force himself to change back, but the tight collar around his neck stopped him. It was tight enough that if he had been human, he wouldn’t be able to breathe. Shifting wasn’t going to be possible until he could convince someone to remove the collar.

 

“Thank you, Wanda,” Barney said as he squatted down in front of Phil. Wanda just looked sad and didn’t reply. Barney reached out his hand and Phil let the faerie king get close enough to almost touch his fur. It was worth it for the second of vicious pleasure he felt when he sank his teeth into Barney’s wrist.

 

“Ow!” The faerie king cursed and with a flick of his wrist sent Phil flying across the room. Phil got to his feet, feeling pleased with himself despite the pain radiating across his back from where he’d hit a wall. He bared his teeth at the pair and Barney laughed. “I probably deserved that.”

 

“You deserve much worse than that,” Wanda murmured, her voice thick with a European accent. She glared defiantly at Barney when he turned to face her, but didn’t move when he raised a hand to cup the side of her face.

 

“I’m sure I do, little witch. Perhaps one day I might even get it. Try and live long enough to see it,” Barney said before using the hand to violently slap her across the face. The force of the blow made her stagger away from him, the red imprint of his hand clearly visible on her pale skin. Insolently, she spat in his direction, but Barney laughed and ignored her. “Now, move Phil for me. We’re going to see if the rest of the court wants to play.”

 

Phil let out a startled yelp when red lines of power crackled from Wanda’s hands and lifted him up even as he tried to scramble backwards. His paws flailed uselessly in the air as he found himself floating just out of reach of the floor. Against his will, he floated after Barney and Wanda as they moved through the curtains to a narrow corridor. There weren’t any windows or anything else to give Phil any indication of where they were, or even if they were still in New York.

 

At the very end of the corridor was a set of intricately carved double doors. Symbols that he’d never seen before were etched all around the doorway, glowing an ominous shade of red. The fear he’d felt before had been completely rational, given the situation he’d found himself in. The emotion that surged through him as he got closer to those glowing symbols was nothing like that. It was a roaring wave of animalistic panic that made him whimper and whine as he tried harder to fight against the magick that held him.

 

Barney swung the doors open without even hesitating and stepped out onto the top of a large staircase. The noise that assaulted Phil’s senses was overwhelming. A cacophony of growls, yelling and screaming drowned out everything else as Phil was dragged into a cavernous room filled with all manner of unsavoury creatures, the air full of the rich scents of blood and sex.

 

“Oi, you lot. Quieten down for a minute,” Barney shouted and the room fell silent almost instantly at his command. Barney gestured Phil forward and out over the bannister rail until he was hovering above an eager looking pack of werewolves. “Give Phil your very warmest welcome. Let him get a taste for dark court hospitality.”

 

A portion of the room, mostly werewolves or shapeshifters, came to life at Barney’s instructions, howling their agreement as they stalked forward. A hulking grey wolf stood right underneath Phil, and Phil watched as the wolf’s tongue ran along the edges of his sharp fangs. A shudder ran down the back of Phil’s spine and he bared his own teeth.

 

Barney’s fingers snapped together and Phil felt the magick that had been holding him in the air disappear. He fell with a startled yelp and landed in a tangled pile of furry limbs and claws. He barely made it to his feet before the grey wolf was pouncing at him.

 

Thankfully Phil was smaller and faster, ducking left around its tail as he avoided getting bitten. He weaved in and out between the creatures as he tried to find more defensible ground. His close combat tactics were all but useless, and while he could hold his own when he sparred with Clint and Natasha, he couldn’t use his hand-to-hand skills without actual hands. But if Phil just kept running, he’d be hunted down like prey for something bigger and far nastier than he was.

 

One of his claws scratched the face of a goblin that had been blocking his path. Blood splattered across his muzzle and he could almost taste the metallic tang. Realisation burned through his mind as he realised that he still had one option left. He couldn’t fight this battle as a human, but if he let go of his control, he could fight it like a wolf.

A hag stepped in front of him, her face fixed in a twisted smirk as magick crackled around her. Impulsively, he snapped his teeth at her, biting down on the twig-like arm and yanking her out of his way as she shrieked and cursed at him.

 

A jaguar leapt at him from one side, sharp claws raking down Phil’s shoulder. Anger and pain brought the fight into clearer focus. He rolled over to get away from the shapeshifter, taking out the jaguar’s legs and hearing it land with a thump. Phil’s own claws tore through the scales of a serpent-like man who hissed at him.

 

Teeth clamped down on his leg, causing him to turn away from the snake man and growl deeply as he came face to face with the huge grey wolf he’d dodged earlier. The wolf jerked his jaw backwards, and Phil couldn’t keep his balance on three legs. His shoulder hit the smooth tiles with a heavy thud.

 

Before he could scramble back to his feet, he felt the sharp points of claws digging into his throat and holding him down. The grey wolf stood over him, while the rest of his pack gathered around him. The alpha wolf howled victoriously, the claws digging just that little bit further into Phil’s neck.

 

Phil snarled angrily, wriggling as much as he could to try and free himself. He would not submit to this strange alpha. Phil already had a pack and a mate waiting for him, if only his human side would stop being so stubborn. This imposter could not replace Clint. Phil’s angry howl of rage and denial echoed off the walls.

 

The grey wolf pressed harder, leaning his whole body weight onto his front paws and starting to draw Phil’s blood. Every inch of body language between them demanded Phil’s submission, but he’d rather die than betray his pack.

 

Phil closed his eyes, not wanting to watch any more. It was starting to get harder to force the air past the obstruction on his throat and fear flickered through him at the realisation that he might die here. He was out of options and he’d never been lucky enough to warrant a last minute miracle. Still, he wished that he could see Clint one more time. He could almost sense that warm, purple aura that was totally at odds with the dark and dangerous glows around the faeries he’d seen tonight.

 

Wait… he really could feel the warm glow of comforting magick getting closer.

 

“Let him go!” Clint’s voice rang out clear and authoritative. There was a momentary pause and then the grey wolf let go of Phil’s throat. Phil opened his eyes, instantly focussing on the spot where the voice had come from.

 

Clint stood in a doorway that Phil hadn’t noticed before, flanked by a girl that Phil vaguely recognised as the one who’d driven them home the other night. Clint looked magnificent, bow in one hand and his power crackling around him like a cape of purple lightning. The nocked arrow was aimed firmly at Barney, still standing at the top of the stairs. The arrow didn’t appear to concern the dark king at all. Instead, he smiled warmly.

 

“Welcome home, little brother.”

 


	6. Chapter 6

**~~~ Chapter 6 ~~~**

“This hasn’t been my home for centuries. Last time I was here you made it more than clear that I wasn’t welcome.” Clint glared across the room at Barney and didn’t lower his weapon. “If I’d been mortal, I’d have died that night, you asshole.”

 

“That was half a millennia ago, quit being such a baby about it. You aren’t mortal and you were never going to die just because some of my court decided to rough you up a bit.” Barney shrugged and there was a smattering of laughter from some of the darker corners of the room. Phil felt tension and anticipation starting to build up in the air, almost as if the court was eager for a fight to break out.

 

“Just like you were going to let your overgrown guard dog ‘rough up’ Phil?” Clint demanded angrily. “You’re lucky I didn’t put an arrow through his throat.”

 

“Even you wouldn’t start a war over a single werewolf. No matter how amusing or attractive you find them.” Clint flushed slightly and Phil took a step towards him. Unlike Barney, he knew that Clint would do anything for those he cared about, to hell with the consequences.

 

“You knew Phil was under my protection. You had no right to take him.”

“My power gives me every right. I saw what I wanted and I took it. I didn’t waste time pathetically following him around and wondering if he liked me. There weren’t any signs that he belonged to the light court. The level of protection you left to watch over him was almost laughable.”

 

“Hey!” Kate shouted indignantly, releasing an arrow that flew just slightly to the left of Barney’s ear before thudding into the wall behind.

 

“No offence intended, Katherine. I’ve long admired the way that you handle the day-to-day running of the light court while Clint is off playing at being mortal. You are a formidable foe, but a werewolf on the full moon is hardly a creature to be toyed with.”

 

“I could have taken him. The six goons that you sent with him were more of a handful. If I hadn’t been busy with them, I’d have made sure you didn’t lay a hand on Phil.” Kate insisted stubbornly, and when Phil managed to draw his attention away from Clint, he could see a similar aura of magick around her and the faint trace of still healing bruises. Faeries, Phil had learnt, healed ridiculously quickly and Kate’s injuries must have been serious for there to still be traces a day later.

 

“And are you going to take on my entire court? That’s a fight you will not win.” Barney gestured around the room at the menacing creatures, all of whom had a sudden predatory gleam in their eyes as they eyed the two intruding fae.

 

“She doesn’t have to. Phil hasn’t been claimed by your court and he hasn’t pledged his allegiance.” Clint squared his shoulders and levelled a dangerous glare at the entire room. “I formally challenge the king of the dark court for the allegiance of the werewolf, Phillip Coulson.”

 

There was a sudden cacophony of screeching and yelling, Phil’s own indignant howl lost amongst the noise. The small part of him that was still human resented the very idea that he was some pawn to be fought over and bartered with. His wolf side that was currently dominating his mind didn’t want Clint to risk losing their pack and was offended by the idea that he would ever submit his allegiance to a bullying asshole like Barney.

 

“I accept.” Barney’s words rang out over the crowd and a hush fell quickly. Barney casually glanced at his watch and Phil took advantage of the momentary distraction amongst the court to scamper across the room to Clint’s side. Clint didn’t drop his bow or ease his stance, but when Phil nudged his head against Clint’s leg, there was a surge of magick and comfort between them.

 

Phil wanted to tell him to run. They were together now and right next to the door. If it had been a SHIELD mission, Phil was certain they would have made it if they’d decided to hightail it out of there. But Clint’s formal words clearly bound them to some sort of ritualised fight that Phil didn’t fully understand.

 

“Dusk is three hours away. Or did you want to wait until dawn before you chicken out?” Barney taunted. Phil heard the distinct sound of Clint’s teeth grinding together.

 

“Dusk. I have work in the morning and I wouldn’t want to fill out the paperwork if I’m late because I was kicking your ass,” Clint snapped back and Barney grinned.

 

“I never thought you’d be so eager to die. I’ll make sure you have a nice funeral.” Barney gestured and Wanda appeared at his side. “Wanda will take Phil somewhere safe until it’s decided, just so there’s no thought of any of you slinking away before dusk.”

 

Phil huddled closer behind Clint, fear creeping in as he recalled the horrible images that the girl had placed in his head. Clint shared a look with Kate and the girl huffed as she stepped forward.

 

“I will go with them,” she said. Phil could almost taste the worry surrounding her and his own heightened as he realised that Clint would be left alone with no one to watch his back. Phil whined and Clint dropped his bow for just a moment while Kate was still there to ward off any attacks. Clint bent down so that he was face to face with Phil.

 

“Tradition says you’ll be safe with Katie, at least for the next few hours. The dark court is bound by some of the same laws as the light, and even Barney can’t interfere with a formal challenge.” Clint’s blue eyes bore into Phil with an intense earnestness that made Phil want to look away. The whole situation was his fault, and here was Clint trying to reassure him. Phil licked Clint’s cheek, a gesture of reassurance and acknowledgement. Clint’s arms wrapped tightly around Phil’s neck and for just a moment, he buried his face in Phil’s fur. Phil was so distracted by the unexpected touch that he almost missed Clint’s whispered “I’m so sorry.”

 

Then the archer was pulling back and standing up, a hard mask of professionalism slamming into place as he nodded at Kate. She sheathed her arrow somewhat reluctantly, and moved forward towards Wanda. Phil forced himself to follow after her. There was nothing he could do right now; he didn’t understand faerie politics and he was missing too much information to be able to correctly judge the situation and take action.

 

Wanda floated down from the balcony, landing gracefully in front of them in a glow of red. She led the way through the crowded court, telekinetically removing those that refused to move out of her way. Phil could still feel the creatures watching him, eyeing him like he was their next meal, but he held his head high and refused to cower behind Kate as he walked through the throng.

 

Finally, they reached a narrow doorway, clearly a side door rather than the elegant formal doors that Phil had entered through. There were still glowing red symbols around the edges, but Phil forced himself to ignore them as they stepped through into a hallway.

 

The red glow around Wanda’s hands disappeared once the doors swung shut behind them. Kate still gripped her bow tightly, but she was no longer brandishing it like a staff. Phil felt himself relax slightly, the tension eased by the truce between the two women. There was enough power between the two of them that they could have levelled the building if they decided to start a fight.

 

The room that Wanda led them to wasn’t elaborate or overly fancy. There were a couple of small couches, with rather homely looking crocheted throws draped over their backs, and a tiny kitchenette in the corner. Kate stalked across the room, kicking her shoes off and resting her feet on the couch with a stubborn look at Wanda.

 

Wanda either didn’t care or she was ignoring her. Her hands gestured and twisted as the energy flowed around the doorway. Phil made his way around the room, scenting it for threats before he made himself settle next to Kate. Wanda came and sat down on the couch opposite.

 

“Your friend is either incredibly stupid or incredibly reckless,” she said as she sat down. Kate let out a sigh.

 

“Clint’s like that, always diving into trouble. From what I hear, Phil can normally keep him somewhat in line.” Her fingers reached down to brush through Phil’s fur and on the third stroke they caught on the edge of the collar. “Can I take this off him? For the next few hours at least, he isn’t part of the dark court and he should be able to choose which form he takes.”

 

“To taste freedom only to have it snatched away again is a cruel fate. But it should be his decision.” Wanda sounded sad, and Phil remembered the brief glimpses of happiness he’d seen in the memories that she’d shown him. Even though he understood the sentiment, Phil knew what his decision would be.

 

Kate’s fingers fumbled at the buckle, but once the clasp slipped free, the collar fell to the ground with a soft thud. The sudden thrill that came from knowing he was no longer bound to one form quickly gave way to practicality. Each time he’d shifted back, he’d been unconscious and woken up sans clothing, and he was hardly about to do that in front of two girls who couldn’t be much older than twenty. Or… well, at least they didn’t look older than that. Phil was hit by the sudden thought that he was probably the youngest in the room, which really wasn’t helpful information right now.

 

Once he was hidden from view behind one of the couches, he forced himself to focus on his human body, on his fingers and toes and the reassuring lack of a tail twitching behind him. He felt the now familiar sensations of the shift start to burn beneath his skin, radiating from the very centre of his being. Instead of fighting against it, he fully welcomed the change and the energy flowed quickly through him. A moment later and he was on his hands and knees, panting slightly. A shiver ran through him as the cool air in the room was suddenly in direct contact with his bare skin where only moments ago there’d been a nice, warm, insulating layer of fur. Reaching one arm up, he pulled one of the throws off the back of the chair and wrapped it around him. It wasn’t exactly a suit, but it was still a comfort to have something to wrap around his body. Slowly, he stood and stretched out his body, cracking his bones as he went.

 

“Thank you,” Phil said, as he looked at the two girls still sat on the couch.

 

“You and Clint are made for each other,” Kate said, skipping all of the usual social niceties. “I didn’t think anyone could attract Clint levels of trouble, but you proved me wrong.”

 

“Admittedly, I’m usually better at dealing with the trouble that comes my way,” Phil said self-deprecatingly, as he sat down on the couch next to her. “It’s been a rough month.”

 

“Barton trouble is bad enough when there’s one of them, and you’ve somehow managed to find yourself between the two of them,” Kate agreed. “Not that any of this is your fault. It’s been two centuries since there was anything more than a minor skirmish between the two courts. The tension has been building for a while.”

 

“The dark court has been growing increasingly restless. Barney is powerful and terrifying, but even he has been struggling to keep some of the wilder creatures in line. There’s been talk of stirring up a war between the two courts. You’re just a catalyst,” Wanda added distractedly, her expression suggesting that her mind was elsewhere, although a moment later it cleared. “Barney has something in mind, and he hasn’t sent his goons to spy on us.”

 

“How can you tell?” Kate asked, while Phil tried to extend his sense just to confirm what she was saying. Even his enhanced clearing could only detect their three heartbeats anywhere in the vicinity.

 

“My magick lets me touch the mind of any living creature and manipulate objects. It has its uses,” the girl explains, holding up a hand and making the red light dance around her fingers. She smiled ruefully. “There are days I wish Barney didn’t find it so useful.”

 

“You aren’t fae,” Kate stated, watching Wanda’s magick with great interest. “I’m not sure what you are, but if you aren’t fae then you can’t be tied to the dark court.”

 

“I’m human,” Wanda replied and both Phil and Kate startled with visible surprise, making the girl laugh, a harsh, bitter sound. “At least I was. My brother and I were born different. We could see things that no one else could, always jumping at shadows or shouting at nothing. Our parents thought us mad.

 

“You had the sight?” Kate asked, and Phil recalled the term from one of the books that Clint had given him. There were some humans who were born being able to see the supernatural. Mostly, they learnt to hide their ability or they were driven mad by lesser fae tormenting them. Wanda nodded and continued her story.

 

“A man appeared shortly after our tenth birthday. He promised our family that he could fix us. Pietro wanted to run; he didn’t trust Strucker. But I was willing to risk almost everything for a chance to be normal, and I convinced him to stay.” Her voice was laden with self-loathing and guilt and Phil wanted to reassure her or offer some words of comfort. But he could only think of empty platitudes so he remained silent.

 

“We spent almost a decade at Strucker’s mercy, being subjected to experiment after experiment. At first there were others, but they all died, one after another, as the procedures got more barbaric. Only Pietro and I survived. It wasn’t until our powers started to appear that we realised that Strucker had never meant to cure us.”

 

“Your brother has the same powers that you do?” Kate asked, but Wanda shook her head.

 

“No. The magick took different forms in each of us. Pietro can run so fast that no one can see him. Once we learnt what we could do, it didn’t take long for us to plan our escape. We burnt the lab to the ground with Strucker stuck inside so that no one would have to go through that again. Only when we returned to our family, they called us cursed and threw us out. Wherever we went in the human world, people were afraid of us. The magick inside us had stopped us ageing and the only place left for us was with the supernatural we’d spent so long trying to avoid.”

 

“Then Barney took your brother, trapping you here?” Phil concluded, remembering the memory she had shared with him earlier.

 

“Yes. He lured us in with half-truths and a promise to treat us like family.” She laughed bitterly. “This from a man who had left his own brother for dead in a back alley.”

 

“From what Clint has told me, Barney wasn’t always cruel, just power hungry. When their parents died, Clint wanted to stay, rather than try and rebuild the light court. Barney thought that it was a challenge to the dark throne. Clint still carries the scars that he inflicted,” Kate offered. “It took Clint years to trust anyone again and our court languished as they were cut off from their new ruler. It took me half a century to track the idiot down and drag him back. He honestly thought we were better off without him.”

 

That sounded like the Clint that Phil knew. More times than he could count, Clint had assumed that SHIELD was going to cut him loose for the smallest mistake or leave him behind when missions went sideways and he wound up captured. Phil was very proud that even if SHIELD cut Clint loose, the archer now trusted that Phil and Natasha would never abandon him.

 

“Your king did not want to rule your court?” Wanda asked incredulously, as if the idea was completely unbelievable.

 

“He still doesn’t want to rule the court. I tend to handle most of the daily things but Clint is a good king and he does what needs to be done,” Kate explained. From the warm fondness in her tone, Phil could tell that she cared deeply for Clint and he was very glad that she’d been watching out for Clint when Phil could not.

 

“He sounds like a good guy. It will be a shame when Barney kills him,” Wanda said, pessimistically.

 

“Hey! Clint can hold his own in a fight. Don’t be so quick to write him off,” Kate said indignantly and Phil nodded in agreement. He’d seen Clint fight his way out of a hydra base without back up, surely he could take on his brother in one on one combat.

 

“It won’t matter. Good guys are honourable and follow the rules. Barney is not a good guy.”

 

“What are you saying?” Phil asked, seeking as much information about what Clint might be facing in a few hours. Clint had said that the dark court would be bound by the same rules that he was, but Wanda’s words lit a small spark of scepticism. She just looked at him with pitying eyes, as if he was an especially slow child.

 

“I’m saying that your friend has committed himself to a fight with a man who has already stabbed him in the back, surrounded by a room of bloodthirsty creatures, and he has sent his only ally away to make sure that you were safe.”

 

Oh.

 

Well shit.

Kate started to swear and curse quite creatively and in several languages that Phil had never even heard. Phil heard himself start growling, his teeth sharpening as anger and fear started to course through his body. He cut the feeling off before he started to shift further, but he promised every part of himself that if he ever had the opportunity, he would tear Barney Barton limb from limb.

 

“We need to stop this,” Phil said finally, once he’d managed to regain some semblance of calm. Kate turned to him with a hopeful expression. “Tell me you have a plan? You’re Phil Coulson, Clint says you always have a plan.”

 

Phil blushed, wondering just what Clint had told her that was making her look at him with such expectation. Even before they were friends, Phil knew he’d been one of the few SHIELD agents whose orders Clint respected enough to follow with only minimal questioning, but most SHIELD missions never went to plan and Phil was very familiar with improvising.

 

“Not at the moment. But there’s a few hours before Clint’s idiotic self-sacrifice, so the three of us can think of something,” Phil said confidently, trying to slip into the mindset that had successfully gotten him through dozens of rough missions.

 

“I cannot help.” Wanda carelessly brushed a stray strand of hair away from her face as they both turned to look at her.

 

“Why not? You know we’re right. Barney is going to try and kill Clint!” Kate’s temper flared up as she glared at the other girl. Phil put a calming hand on her shoulder, but her magick flared violently and he jerked his hand away as if it had been burnt. The magick was nothing like the comforting warmth that he got when he came in contact with Clint.

 

“If I help you, I will never see my brother again. You cannot kill the entire court, and if I run, then Barney will kill him.” The explanation sounded calm and level, but Phil could hear Wanda’s heart beating faster and almost taste the fear in the air. It didn’t matter that she was decades, maybe even centuries, older than him. In that moment, she looked like a scared teenager and Phil had the sudden urge to comfort her.

 

“We will do our best not to bring harm to your brother. If you help us in whatever way you can, I will do everything in my power to get you both away from here,” Phil promised. He half expected her to scoff at the offer; what could one brand new werewolf do that she could not have done herself? But instead, she looked surprised and a little grateful. After a moment she nodded and her face set with a new sense of determination.

 

“I will do what I can. Pietro would not want me to ignore even the slightest chance to leave this place,” Wanda offered and Phil could feel hope starting to build within him. Wanda knew the layout of the building and was more familiar with all of the horrors that the dark court had to offer. While he wished that she’d never been exposed to it, he wasn’t about to ignore that sort of valuable intel.

 

“Okay. Let’s start with the building layout. Where is this fight likely to take place?” Phil started, shifting his head into mission planning mode. Kate grinned next to him and even Wanda gave him a small smile.

 

~~~

 

The three of them made their move half an hour before sunset. Wanda had managed to find Phil a loose t-shirt and a pair of baggy black pants, as well as a short scimitar. His hand had twitched for his gun, but as Wanda quickly pointed out, ordinary bullets weren’t very effective on the supernatural. Phil’s sword fighting skills were a little rusty and it had been over a decade since he went to the Academy’s class on unconventional weaponry, but he gave the sword a couple of practice swings. At the very least, relieving them of their limbs should slow them down.

 

The scimitar was a comforting weight in his hand as he followed Wanda through the corridors. Kate followed silently a couple of steps behind with an arrow between her fingers, ready to be nocked and fired at a moment’s notice. The corridors were empty though, and almost eerily silent. Most of the dark creatures were probably scrabbling for the best view of the court’s cavernous hall, but it didn’t stop every instinct Phil had from screaming that he was walking into a trap.

 

“I don’t like this,” Kate whispered. A sudden scraping noise startled her and she threw her arm out, purple magick gathering around the point of her arrow. The soft glow lit up a small rat scampering across the floor. Kate relaxed with a small self-deprecating chuckle. “One of these days I’m going to stop letting Clint drag me into these messes.”

 

The red glow of Wanda’s magick encompassed the rat, which squeaked pitifully before its shape contorted and revealed itself as a minor demon. Kate swore and Phil pretended he couldn’t see the way her hands shook. But the swearing trailed off into a Latin chant and Phil could see her purple magick wrapping around the tiny demonic figure and blending with Wanda’s. The demon screeched and hissed, but as Kate spoke the last Latin words, the ground appeared to open and swallow it whole.

 

“What did you do?” Phil asked, as they started to move again.

 

“I banished it. It’s not dead, but it won’t be able to warn its masters that we aren’t where we should be. It’ll be a decade or so before it can claw its way back to this plane of existence,” Kate whispered back before Wanda shushed them both.

 

Wanda led them upwards, occasionally ducking into side corridors or unlit rooms as the occasional patrol or wayward fae strayed into their path. Thankfully, there weren’t any more encounters with shape-shifting demons. Wanda eventually stopped in front of a blank wall. Phil frowned in confusion, but when Wanda reached out to rest a hand on it, the whole wall shimmered and glowed ominously. The unfamiliar sense of panic he’d felt when he’d first been dragged into the dark court rose again within him now, even though he was in his human form. He took two steps backwards before Kate placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

 

The contact was enough to get him to focus and remember why he was there. Clint was in that hall and he was in danger. Phil’s resolve hardened and he forced himself to step forward. The fear was still there, but he could use it to fight and he almost felt sorry for anyone who got between him and his mate.

 

“Are you ready?” Wanda asked, and Phil raised the scimitar in answer. It still surprised him a little when she stepped through the shimmering, still-opaque wall, but he hid it quickly. He followed, bracing himself as he stepped through and felt himself briefly surrounded by dark and hostile magick.

 

On the other side was a small balcony, high above the rest of the court and shrouded in darkness. The room below was crowded and almost pulsating with a chaotic type of magick that set Phil’s teeth on edge. Wanda was leaning forward over the edge and scanning the entire crowd. When Kate emerged from the wall, the shimmering stopped and Wanda turned back to face them.

 

“It hasn’t started yet.” Wanda informed them and one glance over the side of the balcony confirmed that neither Barney or Clint were there yet.

 

“What is this place?” Kate asked, looking around and noting that there was a rather decadent looking chair in one corner and what looked like a well-stocked bar fridge.

 

“The dark court is a chaotic and dangerous place. Even though he is the king, Barney does not always want to be among his subjects. But lack of knowledge is a weakness, and he spies on them so that he can learn their secrets. It has saved his life more than once.” From what Phil knew about Barney, he could believe that. The man was power-hungry and undoubtedly paranoid if he’d ever believed that Clint would try and betray him.

 

Any further discussion was cut off as the entire hall fell silent. The big, ornate doors swung open and Barney stepped in. He was dressed in a golden chain mail vest covered with a black, sleeveless surcoat. On the front in red stitching was a crest that Phil guessed represented the dark court. In one hand was a mace that glowed a fiery red from Barney’s magick. Overall, he looked like an actor at a renaissance fair, but his court seemed to love it as they howled and cheered their approval.

 

“Quieten down, you lot!” Barney shouted, his voice amplified so that it could be heard above the crowd. It wasn’t completely silent, but the noise fell to a low background hum. “Tonight we shall show the Light Court that we are not weak, and we will not be ignored. My brother thinks that he can just walk in here and order me around! He was wrong and he will pay for that mistake.”

 

The statement was met by a burst of cheers. Kate rolled her eyes in distaste and Phil had to agree with her. The whole scene seemed pointlessly over-dramatic and staged for maximum effect. It took another moment or two for the noise to settle down again and then another set of doors swung open and Clint stepped into the room.

 

Clint had changed as well, but unlike Barney, there was no hint of medieval theatrics. He wore practical combat pants, boots and a tactical vest that looked like it could have come from SHIELD’s armoury except for a glowing purple insignia that Phil couldn’t make out on each sleeve. He had two full quivers slung over his shoulder and his SHIELD bow held tight in his left hand. Phil felt a little relieved that Clint hadn’t decided on his recurve. While Clint liked to remind him that the bow was a Palaeolithic weapon, that SHIELD bow was far more high tech and had a few secret tricks that could mean the difference between life and death. Clint’s purple magick glowed like a protective shield around him and Phil thought he looked magnificent.

 

“Do you think we can get this over with?” Clint asked as he took a position opposite Barney. Phil’s hand clenched tighter around his scimitar and placed his arm on the edge of the balcony, ready to jump over and take his place at Clint’s back. The red immobilising force of Wanda’s magick surrounded him a moment later.

 

“Not yet. We cannot interfere first or else your life is forfeited to the Dark court,” Wanda whispered quickly and Phil forced himself to relax again. It was hard to sit there, waiting, like some prize to be won and it grated against every aspect of his identity.

 

“Are you in a rush to die, little brother? We have a few more minutes before dusk,” Barney taunted, sounding far too confident for someone about to fight for his life, even a faerie king.

 

“Must you joke about everything, you asshole? This isn’t entertainment,” Clint snapped in frustration. His free hand clenched against his side, a sure sign that he knew that Barney was stalling.

 

“You never did fully understand power. I’m a fae king. Everything is entertainment or a game, even if the pawns don’t always know they are playing.” Barney replied casually. “You’d have learnt that from Dad if you had been paying attention.”

 

“Dad was an abusive dick. Nothing he knew was worth learning and I’m glad he’s dead.” Clint’s eyes were now scanning the room, looking for any sign of a threat. When he glanced up at the balcony, Phil wasn’t sure if he could see them, but Clint smiled slightly.

 

“Your loss. If you’d listened, you might not have hesitated and lost your wolf. I’d all but gift-wrapped him for you, but a whole month later and you’ve languished in indecision. You aren’t fit to rule your court.” A dark arrow, flying across the court and burying itself into Clint’s thigh, punctuated the taunt. Clint let out a pained grunt and Barney laughed. “The sun is setting. The darkness will come soon.”

 

There was a loud chanting cheer through the room as Barney took a step towards Clint. Clint pulled the arrow out of his leg, with a scowl. Instead of reaching for his quiver, he nocked the arrow in his bow and aimed the bloodstained shaft at his brother. Phil thought he saw Clint say something, but he couldn’t make out the words. He did see another arrow come flying out of a darkened corner, aiming for Clint’s left shoulder.

 

Only the arrow didn’t hit its target. Instead, there was a blur of movement too fast to track and Wanda let out a shocked gasp. The blur stopped beside Clint, revealing a young blonde man that Phil recognised as Wanda’s brother. Barney paused and looked almost surprised.

 

“What? You didn’t see that coming?” Pietro asked the dark king, and Clint seemed to find that hilarious because he started laughing. That seemed to shock his brother even further and the crowd shifted uneasily at this strange turn in events. Phil wasn’t going to get a better opportunity.

 

He leapt over the balcony railing, bracing for the hard impact from dropping from such a height. But he didn’t hit the ground hard and fast. Instead, his body seemed to float down towards Clint; it took him a moment to spot Wanda’s magick easing his fall. He landed on his feet next to Clint, looking up as Kate and Wanda descended a second later.

 

Clint gave him a small, sad smile, and Phil nodded to show that he understood. This was where he wanted to be and it felt right, but he would give anything for Clint to be safe somewhere else. As he tightened his grip on the scimitar, he moved so that his shoulder brushed briefly against Clint’s and took what little comfort he could from the contact. In the background, he was aware of Wanda and Pietro hugging each other tightly.

 

Their moment of peace didn’t last. Any semblance of ritual or order disintegrated as creatures surged forward to defend their court. Barney started to move backwards and Clint jumped after him before he could get cut off by a group of werewolves who seemed very focussed on Phil.

 

Phil swung the arm with the scimitar, finding his first target, and part of him was delighted with the wolf’s pained yelp, but there was no time to savour the moment. He ducked quickly as another one dove at him, aiming for his chest. As he dodged, the scimitar moved like a blur in his hand, cutting through fur and flesh without hesitation. He was using every ounce of training and every instinct that he had, but he was barely able to hold them off. Claws scraped down the side of one of his arms and he yelled in pain even as he stabbed at his attacker.

 

It wasn’t enough. One weapon was not going to cut it.

 

Without thinking about it, Phil reached for his animal side. On his left hand, he let his claws grow longer and he felt his teeth sharpen into fangs. His hearing and sight were heightened, giving him enough warning to sidestep to the left and avoid an unpleasant death at the end of a silver spear. Phil moved forward after Clint, clawing and slicing through anything in his way. He needed to get to his mate.

 

He spotted Clint halfway up a set of stairs, using his bow as a staff to fend off his brother. The mace in Barney’s hand swung hard and fast, but Clint was faster and his SHIELD training seemed to have given him an advantage. Clint’s fighting style was a seamless blend of traditional and street fighting moves and Barney obviously hadn’t been in real combat in decades.

 

Phil’s attention was drawn back to his own surroundings at the sudden sound of a hag chanting at him; he could feel her magick settling over him. He charged forward, knowing that he was too far away to stop her. But before she could finish her spell, an arrow with bright purple fletching pierced the hag’s throat. As she gasped and gurgled her last breath, Phil nodded his thanks at Kate. She rolled her eyes at him and turned back to her own fight with a satyr.

 

A deep growl came from Phil’s left and he turned to find a were-jaguar pouncing at him. It landed on him with a thud and his back crashed into the ground. His scimitar fell uselessly from his hand, but his claws tore into the creature’s back. He used his empty hand to push against the animal, fighting desperately to keep his neck away from the animal’s claws and teeth. He growled deeply, letting the claws on his other hand grow and pierce the skin around the jaguar’s throat. Blood spurted across his face, and the creature slumped on top of him.

 

Phil didn’t get a chance to shove the jaguar off. Something grabbed his feet, jerking him out from under the dead body and catching his hands before he could fight back. The creature that held him was an almost shapeless mass of darkness, but its grip was frustratingly solid and strong. It jerked Phil up the stairs to where similar creatures were holding a scowling Kate.

 

As Phil was forced to his knees next to her, he could see Wanda and Pietro still desperately fighting, but they were vastly outnumbered. Phil had known that there’d only been a snowball’s shot in hell that they’d be able to fight their way out of here, but defeat now seemed depressingly certain. A small legion of goblins somehow managed to grab hold of Pietro, dragging him down and away from his sister and there were too many opponents even for Wanda’s powerful magick. She gave one final scream, her power flooding out of her in a wall of rage and taking out those closest to her.

 

But there were more to take their place and with her power drained, Wanda was quickly bound and dragged up the stairs. All four of them were held tightly as Barney and Clint continued to fight above them. Clint’s bow cracked into Barney’s shin with a resounding crack and he staggered.

 

“Enough!” Barney yelled and Clint hesitated, his bow stopping just short of smashing into his brother’s skull. “Stop or your friends are all dead.”

 

Clint turned to look at the stairs, his eyes connecting with Phil’s. Phil knew he looked like shit and had to be covered in blood, and he wished he could tell Clint that almost none of it was his. It was all the distraction that Barney needed. His mace crashed into Clint’s ribs and as the younger faerie gasped for breath, Barney swung again, bringing the weapon down onto the arrow wound in Clint’s leg. The bow clattered to the ground and a swarm of dark faeries moved in to restrain him. As Barney stood, Clint was dragged down the stairs and dumped next to Phil.

 

Phil let out an animalistic howl of rage, twisting and struggling against the creature that held him. He needed to get to Clint, to make sure that he was okay. He could hear a steady heartbeat and the purple aura hadn’t faded, but it wasn’t the same as being able to touch Clint and physically check him over. The creature’s grip held tight, but it didn’t stop Phil from snarling and gnashing his teeth when Barney moved to touch Clint.

 

The faerie king raised a hand in mock surrender, before deliberately stepping on Clint’s injured leg. Clint groaned and Barney chuckled. “You are in no position to protect him, Phil.”

 

“Fuck you, Barney,” Clint spat as he tried to roll away from his brother but was held firm. “Leave Phil alone.”

 

“I can see why you like him. Loyal and brave, and when he’s not a vicious wolf, he can be rather amusing.” Barney stepped over Clint until he stood in front of Phil, squatting down so that they were eye to eye, but unfortunately he was still out of range of Phil’s teeth. “It was a shame that I couldn’t convince him to join my court. Any man who thought he could take on an entire chaotic horde of creatures with only three allies would have been a worthy addition.”

 

“You could never match my current benefits package,” Phil gritted out through clenched teeth, even though he knew that Barney could probably more than double his SHIELD salary. He wasn’t fully human right now, and he’d have liked nothing more than to tear that smug smile off Barney’s face.

 

“I’m disappointed. I could have offered you anything you could have dreamed off. You’d never have had to suppress your animal instincts and we could have hunted and fought and brought chaos to the entire city. But you still chose Clint? He’s a weak, pitiful king who spends more time hiding behind his sidekick’s skirts. Katie over there has more balls than he does, and yet you’d rather die than join my court. What has he done to deserve such unwavering loyalty that you’d risk everything in a pointless rescue attempt when you could have no doubt talked Wanda’s bleeding heart into helping you escape?” Barney asked in a caustic tone that made Phil’s blood boil.

 

“You’ve got no right to talk about my mate that way,” Phil growled furiously. Half a second was all it took for him to realise what he’d admitted out loud, but he wasn’t about to take it back. He glared stubbornly at Barney who smiled maliciously.

 

“Your mate, huh? Hear that, Clint? Your little puppy has a crush,” Barney taunted and he jerked Clint up onto his knees so that Phil could look into those blue eyes and see the rejection for himself. But to Phil’s surprise, Clint’s gaze held nothing but affection and love and Phil stared in amazement. Clint laughed ruefully.

 

“You have terrible timing,” Clint said, and Phil had to agree with that. The looming threat of death hardly made for a romantic setting.

 

“How sweet. Now that the uncomfortable elephant in the room has been dealt with, I can get on with killing you,” Barney said, raising his mace ominously just above Clint’s head.

 

Then all of the lights in the room went out.


	7. Chapter 7

**~~~ Chapter 7 ~~~**

 

The shadows that had been holding Phil disappeared and he scrambled forward, towards the dim purple outline of Clint. The ground rumbled ominously and then something tore the roof off the top of the court. The last fading light of the     sunset illuminated a dark colossal shape, slowly flying through the air. A bright orange stream of fire flew into the hall with a deliberate purpose, throwing fireballs at small goblins, bursting through doors and letting a motley array of creatures charge into the room.

 

There were all manner of shifters, a host of vampires, one of whom was riding a werewolf and looked a lot like Agent Simmons, despite Simmons’ well-known aversion to being in the field. There were satyrs and demons and a smug-looking Jasper. Phil thought he even saw a man made entirely of rock crashing through a group of succubi. The fireball, which looked a lot like a burning man, lit whole streaks of dark creatures alight.

 

“What have you done?” Barney asked Clint, the mace falling to one side while he stared in shock as his court was overrun. Clint grinned.

 

“You didn’t really think I’d walk in here with just Katie for back up, did you?” Clint asked innocently, and Barney cursed as he shoved Clint away from him and tried to make a run for it. Phil caught Clint before he could hit the ground. As the imminent threat to their lives appeared to have disappeared, Phil allowed himself to pull Clint even closer and took a moment to breathe deeply, savouring Clint’s scent.

 

Wind started to pick up around them and then the sound of wings beating went from being a minor background noise to an overwhelming din within seconds. A loud thud echoed through the room as the huge flying thing landed on the top of the building, blocking out any lingering lights. The ancient power that the thing exuded was terrifying and as Phil looked closer he could make out the claws and scales of an actual, real-life dragon.

 

The dragon let out a deafening roar, shaking the very foundations of the building. It’s head tilted as if it was looking for something, and Phil could see deep scarring over one eye. He buried his head against Clint’s shoulder as silent peals of hysterical laughter shuddered through him.

 

When Nick the Dragon belched out a blast of fire, all of the remaining dark court creatures made themselves scarce. Barney was trying to fight his way through to the closest exit, but there were SHIELD agents blocking it off. Maria and Jasper appeared at his side with matching predatory grins. Darkness bound Barney’s eyes and then Maria’s knee made a swift connection with the faerie king’s groin.

 

Apparently satisfied that the situation was under control, Nick’s giant frame shimmered and started to shrink. Talons and wings disappeared and the scales faded into the black of his leather coat. As a more human-looking Nick practically floated down with his coat swirling around him, Phil wanted to roll his eyes.

 

“Did you take a course on badass entrances, or are you naturally this much of a drama queen?” Phil asked, because he honestly couldn’t help himself. Clint snorted with laughter, his whole body shaking against Phil’s and Phil smiled. Nick glared at them both.

 

“If you’re going to be a sarcastic asshole about it, Cheese, I won’t bother rescuing your ass next time.” Nick turned his attention towards Barney, who tried to square his shoulders and stop looking like he was about to wet himself. He wasn’t overly successful, but it was a valiant effort.

 

“You’ve caused me an awful lot of trouble, Mr Barton.” Nick glared and an almost inaudible whimpering sound escaped the faerie king. “I don’t give a shit who you are, or what sort of fucked up faerie politics are at work here. From the looks of it, you were about to execute two of my agents and that’s the sort of thing I take personally.”

 

“Don’t kill him.” Clint struggled to his feet and stood firm, even with the full weight of Nick’s power focussed on him. “The fae courts need to be balanced and Barney has no obvious successor. If you kill him, the dark court would be without a ruler and I cannot run both. Without Barney the dark court would be dissolved and the chaotic creatures would be unleashed on New York without even Barney’s minor limitations on their power.”

 

Nick seemed to contemplate this request. Then he pulled his gun from it’s holster and fired all six shots into Barney’s body. Clint yelled and took half a step forward as his brother sagged in Jasper’s grip.

 

“They aren’t iron rounds. He’ll live,” Nick explained as he re-holstered his gun. Drawing in a deep breath, he addressed the crowd of SHIELD agents in a loud, booming voice. “Good work, Agents! Mission objectives achieved. Remember that you need to debrief with a senior agent within the next 24 hours and requests for hazard pay are due by the end of the week.”

 

Nobody moved and Nick’s brow furrowed into a frown. “Dismissed!”

 

No one needed to be told a third time. The agents dispersed quickly, not wanting to get stuck with any of the clean-up duties. Phil got to his feet and pulled Clint up beside him. The other man grinned at Phil, that broad, adrenaline-fuelled ‘we’re still alive’ grin that Phil loved seeing at the end of every mission.

 

Kate appeared next to Clint, her fists pummelling his side. “Don’t ever do that again! You couldn’t have told me that you’d been responsible and called for reinforcements for literally the first time in your life?”

 

Clint started laughing, catching the smaller girl into a hug and pulling her in tight. “No promises, Katie-Kate. But we didn’t die today, and that calls for celebration.”

 

“What it calls for, Agent Barton, is a long debrief on why you thought it was appropriate to mount a rescue mission with three civilians.” Fury said as he walked towards them, flanked by Maria and Jasper. Clint winced. “How are you doing, Phil?”

 

“I’m sure I’d prefer to go another few rounds than deal with the paperwork for this mess,” Phil said, stretching his back as he felt for various aches and the sting from the scrapes and scratches. It wasn’t as bad as he’d thought it would be, but he did feel like he could sleep for a week and the thought of heading back to SHIELD was not at all appealing.

 

“You got yourself into this mess, the paperwork is your problem. Or delegate to Barton. It might keep you both out of trouble for a couple of hours.” Nick smirked as he clapped Phil on the shoulders and walked past him. “I want you both back at HQ within the hour.”

 

“I thought I was on suspension,” Phil called after him.

 

“I don’t give a fuck. One hour, Phil, I’m not dealing with this bullshit.”

 

Phil smiled slightly as he stared after his friend. He’d have to buy Nick a bottle of that scotch he was so fond of. A slight movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he spotted Wanda and Pietro standing awkwardly to one side. Phil was incredibly grateful for their help. Without them, he wasn’t sure they’d have held on long enough for Nick to get there.

 

“Thank you,” he said sincerely as he moved towards them. “What will you do now?”

 

“It’s been a long time since we could make our own choices. This has been our home, but we can’t stay here,” Wanda said, looking at Barney with unmasked hatred. Her brother placed a hand on her shoulder.

 

“Today we both chose to fight for what was right. If there is no place for us, we can fight together to make our own place.” Wanda looked up at him in surprise, but Pietro’s face was set with determination.

 

“That’s a good plan, don’t let me stop you, but you did save the life of a faerie king today. The light court will welcome both of you for as long as you want to stay,” Clint offered as he limped over. Phil eyed his wounded leg with concern, and made a note to check him over when they got back to SHIELD.

 

“There’d be a job at SHIELD for you as well, if you wanted it. The Director is always on the lookout for new and unique talents,” Phil added, even though he knew that the siblings wouldn’t take him up on it.

 

“We have followed someone else’s orders for too long.” Wanda looked thoughtfully at Clint, sizing him up. Clint held her gaze, and Phil wasn’t sure what she saw, but eventually Wanda nodded. “But it might be nice to have somewhere to call home.”

 

“For as long as you want to stay, you can have one,” Clint promised.

 

“You better watch it, Barton. That’s my little sister,” Pietro warned, but he was smiling and his arm was wrapped around Wanda’s shoulder. Clint smiled back.

 

“I’ll definitely be keeping an eye on you, punk.” Clint shifted his weight on his leg and winced. Without thinking, Phil took a step towards him and let Clint lean against his shoulder. The contact and the touch of Clint’s magick felt like coming home. Phil wondered if the smug satisfaction he was feeling all the way down to his bones was showing on his face. Clint sighed dramatically. “Let’s go deal with SHIELD’s paperwork. If we’re lucky, we might get out before midnight.”

 

“Speak for yourself, Barton. Some of us aren’t SHIELD agents, and I know I didn’t sign up for all that government red tape. I’m done helping you for today, possibly for the next decade. Call me if you’re dying,” Kate said with a smirk, and Clint groaned.

 

“Don’t be like that, Katie-Kate. What’s a little shared paperwork between friends?” Clint asked and Kate stuck her tongue out at him. Clint rounded on Phil with a hopeful expression. “Tell her, Phil. SHIELD rules. Everyone has to do the paperwork.”

 

“Did you really want to add the civilian debriefs, non-disclosures and compensation waivers to your to-do-list?” Phil asked calmly. Clint stared at him for a moment, his face filled with disbelief while he tried to work out if Phil was messing with him.

 

“Fine. Get out of here, Katie. Take Wanda and Pietro with you.” Clint gave in eventually with an exaggerated sigh.

 

“Sure thing,” Kate quickly agreed before turning towards Phil. “Thanks, Phil. _You_ can call anytime.”

“Hey!” Clint protested, with an absolutely adorable pout. Phil just smiled and nodded his acknowledgement.

  
“And make sure he brings you round to see the court,” Kate called after her shoulder as she half-dragged a bemused looking Wanda and Pietro away.

 

“So, uh, I guess there’s a few things that I should have told you?” Clint said once they were alone. His arm came up to rub the back of his neck and he looked a little sheepish.

 

“There were more than a few things I shouldn’t have said. I was an ass,” Phil offered, cringing as he remembered their last conversation in his office. “How about we head back to my place once this debrief is out of the way, and I’ll order us pizza while we talk about it?”

 

“I hate to tell you this, Phil. But your apartment is currently a crime scene. One of your neighbours called the cops and SHIELD’s been a little too busy to sort out the jurisdiction,” Clint admitted apologetically and Phil groaned. How was this his life? Clint bumped against his shoulder with a small smile. “But you’re always welcome at my place.”

 

“With an offer like that, how could I refuse?” Phil asked with a fond smile. The sincerity of Clint’s statement felt like it had lifted a weight off of Phil’s shoulders. “Too bad we’ve got to go to SHIELD first.”

 

“I guess we’d better get the debrief over with.” Clint sighed melodramatically, but he shifted his weight so that he wasn’t leaning so heavily on Phil. “Wouldn’t want Fury to have to send out another search party.”

 

“We’d never hear the end of it,” Phil agreed.

 

~~~

 

The debrief was every bit as long and painful as Clint had dreaded it would be. It was easily the wrong side of midnight before they’d gone through all of the details of Phil’s capture and Clint’s subsequent impromptu rescue attempt. The urgent forms had been completed and there was another large pile cluttering up Phil’s in-tray.

 

A month ago, he would have made himself a carafe of extra strong coffee and resigned himself to missing his bed for another 24 hours. Instead, he found himself dragging a bleary eyed Clint down to the car pool. Clint slid into the passenger seat with a sleepy huff of approval and Phil smiled as he looked across at him.

 

Given the late hour, the roads were free of any major traffic and it only took Phil fifteen minutes to make his way to Clint’s building. That was still long enough for Clint to drift off into a light doze. Phil nudged him gently until Clint mumbled something unintelligible and blinked up at Phil. Those bright blue eyes took a minute to focus, and the fact that he wasn’t instantly alert was a sign of trust that gave Phil a warm feeling of happiness.

 

“Come on. I don’t really want to have to wake up your neighbour to let me into your apartment after I drag you up the stairs,” Phil said softly and Clint made a quiet assenting grunt before hauling himself out of the car.

 

Clint didn’t lean on him as he had earlier. As Phil thought about the debrief, Clint had been his usual friendly and professional self. Phil felt a brief surge of relief. Maybe things could go back to way they’d been before and Clint would overlook the way that Phil had admitted his feelings in front of the entire dark court and Clint’s best friend. Phil would have to learn to reign in the way his entire being lit up around Clint, but things would be back to normal and he’d have control.

 

And he’d be miserable.

 

Was his reputation really worth losing his chance at happiness? He’d still be Agent Phil Coulson even if he gave up his rigid self-control. If he could find a balance between his wolf and his human side, he might even be better at his job. His friends wouldn’t abandon him either way, but the teasing might become unbearable if he pushed Clint away again.

 

Phil looked a little closer at Clint as the other man fumbled for his keys. The blond man still looked tired, but the aura around him glowed with a warm happiness. Phil smiled softly and stepped forward. His arms wrapped around Clint as he took the keys out of Clint’s hands and slotted them into the door. Clint made a happy noise as he looked at Phil in surprise.

 

Phil might have been prepared to make himself miserable due to some stubborn sense of professionalism, but he wasn’t prepared to risk breaking Clint’s heart.

 

Of course, once Phil managed to get the door open, Lucky came bounding out and barrelled into both of them, knocking them down to the floor. Clint started laughing as he tried to fend off the dog’s eager affections. Phil couldn’t help but laugh as well when Lucky came and licked his face. Phil buried his hands into the warm fur and felt content in that strong sense of pack and home that he always got in Clint’s apartment.

 

“Alright, Lucky. That’s enough,” Clint said after a moment, shoving the dog away. Once he’d pulled himself upright, he offered a hand down to Phil. Phil smiled broadly as he took it, and he was surprised to see that Clint looked nervous. Instead of dropping Clint’s hand once he’d gotten to his feet, he held onto it and squeezed.

 

“I think I’m finally ready for that talk,” Phil said, and was incredibly proud of the way that he managed to keep his tone level even though his heart was starting to race in his chest.

 

“I’m pretty sure that the local pizza place is closed, but I think I’ve got a couple of beers in my fridge if you’re interested,” Clint offered, dropping Phil’s hand and heading towards the fridge. Phil sat down on a stool at the kitchen counter, admiring the view when Clint bent over to grab the beers.

 

When he straightened up, Clint cracked his own bottle open as he slid the other over to Phil. The cool weight of the bottle settled against his hand and somehow it helped focus his thoughts. This was what he wanted. He wanted to be here in Clint’s apartment after a tiring mission, or just a long day. He wanted to be able to reach out and touch and feel that warm, comforting magick running through them both. Mostly he wanted to learn how Clint’s fingers felt running across his skin instead of through his fur, and find out how long it would take to explore every inch of those tanned muscles. But it was still hard to squash down over a decade of doing his best not to think about it and actually find the words.

 

He’d been silent too long. Clint was watching him, leaning halfway across the counter but his hands were kept carefully away from Phil. It was almost as if he was hesitant to close the distance, but couldn’t bring himself to pull away. Those blue eyes pierced into Phil, waiting for him to make the next move.

 

Unfortunately, words seemed to have given Phil up for a lost cause and completely deserted him. He stifled a growl of frustration as his wolfish side tried to let him know what it thought about the mess Phil had found himself in. Phil held Clint’s gaze and licked his lips.

 

Maybe his human side was over complicating this. Maybe what he needed for once, was to act on instinct and see where the pieces fell when everything was done.

 

Phil leaned forward, closing the gap between them and pressing their lips together. Clint gasped in surprise, but Phil didn’t break the kiss or pull away, and after a moment, Clint’s brain seemed to get with the program and he started to kiss back. Magick surged around them, flaring uncontrollably as Clint’s emotions were let loose.

 

When they eventually broke apart, Phil grinned wolfishly at Clint. He was half tempted to pull Clint back in for another kiss, just as soon as he caught his breath. Clint inhaled deeply, his eyes betraying the same desire that was building within Phil.

 

“That was not how I expected this conversation to go,” Clint said, smiling like he’d just won the big prize on those rigged games at the county fair. Phil felt the burn of a blush as it crept across the back of his neck.

 

“Talking hasn’t been working out well for me lately. I thought I’d try something new.” Phil dropped his eyes away from Clint’s and he took a sudden interest at reading the label wrapped around his beer. It was an imported microbrew, and he’d have read more except the bottle was being pulled out of his hand. Clint set it aside, and reached over with his own hands to cover Phil’s.

 

“I think I like this new, direct Phil,” Clint admitted and Phil smiled as he looked back up. Clint blushed as he continued. “I’ve been completely gone on you for years.”

 

“Years?” Phil knew that Clint had always flirted and there’d been some signs, but Phil had always thought it was just a passing infatuation on Clint’s part. It was definitely a shock to hear that Clint had wanted more for so long.

 

“Half of SHIELD has bets on when you’d finally notice,” Clint said and Phil laughed. Clint took that moment to lean in and steal a chaste kiss, just a brief brush of their lips together that sent a spark through Phil. He wanted to deepen the kiss, drag Clint down the hall to the bedroom and discover just what he had been denying himself for close to a decade. Unfortunately, his mother raised him to be a gentleman.

 

“Would you like to go on a date with me this Friday?” Phil asked and Clint blinked, leaning back slightly.

 

“You’re finally asking me on a _first_ date? Because I kind of think we’re a little bit past that.” Clint wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, and Phil smiled.

 

“I’m not that easy, Clint. I believe three dates is the usual standard.”

 

“No one is ever going to believe you’re easy, Phil,” Clint complained. “I’ve been courting you for a month without so much as a kiss.”

 

“You’ve been courting me?” Phil asked. He had to admit that he’d been a little preoccupied over the last month but he didn’t think he could have missed Clint attempting to court him. He had noticed that they were eating together more often than not, and when he wasn’t on the range, Clint was almost always in Phil’s office. Then there had been the way that Clint had suddenly started handing in all of his reports. “Why would you think completed paperwork was romantic?”

 

Clint shrugged. “Thought it might be easier for you not to have to chase me for it. I’d be more than happy to stop if you want me to.”

 

In a sort of twisted way, it actually was kind of romantic. Phil stood and moved around the bench to wrap his arms around Clint’s waist. He kissed the other man again, hard enough that he could feel his knees start to weaken and his pants getting tighter.

 

“Thank you,” Phil said sincerely and Clint blushed.

 

“I knew you were still adjusting to being a werewolf, but suddenly I didn’t have to keep secrets from you or worry that we’d only have a few years when I wanted to have eternity. I couldn’t make myself wait.”

 

“I’m glad you didn’t,” Phil said, kissing him again until Clint let out a moan. When Phil pulled back, Clint tried to chase after him and Phil smirked. “Still insisting on a first date.”

 

“You are a tease, Phillip Coulson,” Clint whined, kissing the side of Phil’s neck instead. “How did I get so lucky?”

 

“I wouldn’t call us lucky. If we were, it wouldn’t have taken a homicidal brother and a werewolf bite for us to get together.” Phil paused. During the debrief, Phil couldn’t help but notice the way that things were too convenient, almost too neat. He hadn’t wanted to ask Clint about it at SHIELD and . . . well, they’d been a little distracted since they got back to Clint’s apartment. But now that Phil had brought it up again, it was hard to ignore it. “Your brother wasn’t really trying to kill you, was he?”

 

Clint pulled away and turned to face Phil. He leaned back against the kitchen cabinets and tilted his head to one side. “What makes you say that?”

 

“When he first turned me, Barney said I was a gift for his little brother. He could have taken me to his court then, but he let me go. It was a month before he decided to send his henchmen to kidnap me,” Phil explained. Clint nodded, obviously listening to Phil and not just humouring him, so Phil continued. “He’d been keeping the twins separated because they didn’t want to be part of his court. Barney’s been ruling the dark court for hundreds of years, he can’t be stupid enough to unintentionally assign guard duty to the only two members of his court who could be tempted to betray him.”

 

“Barney is… complicated,” Clint said finally. “In his own way, I think he cares and he saw a win-win opportunity. Either I’d get my act together and make a move, and we’d escape with the two problematic members of his court, or he’d kill me, take my power, and gain another powerful werewolf.”

 

“I’m not sure I understand,” Phil admitted.

 

“Barney was trying to kill me, but he’s not going to be too disappointed that he failed.” Clint shrugged, and then a smirk crept across his face. “I’m not sure he was expecting six bullets to the chest, though. He’ll be feeling that for months.”

 

Phil was more than happy to let the topic drop now that the final piece of the puzzle had fallen into place. Without warning, he yawned. Glancing at the clock, he noticed it was after 3am and even Lucky had dragged himself off to sleep on the couch once it became clear that Clint wasn’t about to feed him. Phil yawned again and it felt like everything from the last 24 hours came crashing down on him like a weight, sapping the last of his energy.

 

Clint pushed himself away from the bench and took hold of Phil’s hand. Phil followed without protest as Clint tugged him towards the bedroom. A small part of him wanted to insist that he’d be fine on the couch, but Clint seemed to anticipate that and silenced him with another kiss.

 

“Just for sleep, Phil,” Clint said as he pushed open the door and Phil nodded, all but collapsing onto the mattress. It was so soft that it felt like heaven and he was surrounded by Clint’s scent. Phil let out a pleased rumbling noise and buried his face deep into one of the pillows. Somewhere above him, Clint laughed.

 

Phil must have drifted off for a minute, because the next thing he realised, Clint was sliding into bed behind him, pulling Phil against his very muscular bare chest. Phil huffed in contentment.

 

“I love you, Clint,” Phil said the words carefully, making sure that they weren’t just a tired murmur that Clint wouldn’t hear. Clint’s arms tightened around his waist and left a trail of kisses down the side of his neck before Clint replied.

 

“I love you too, Phil,” Clint said. “Now shut up, and go to sleep.”

 

Life wasn’t ever going to be perfect and there were still plenty of things they’d left unsaid. With his mate curled around him and a new promise of happiness still burning brightly within him, Phil couldn’t bring himself to be concerned about tomorrow’s problems.

 

Phil Coulson, werewolf of SHIELD, slept.

_"I hope that you see right through my walls,_

_I hope that you catch me cos I'm already falling,_

_I'll never let a love get so close,_

_You put your arms around me and I'm home."_

_\- "Arms " by Christina Perri_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it!!! It's finished :) If you enjoyed it, please leave kudos and let me know what you think! Thank you for reading and sticking with me this far!


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